


Things Change

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-14
Updated: 2004-09-21
Packaged: 2018-09-30 22:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 77,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10173332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Recently reposted from ff.net! In the summer before Harry's seventh year, Dumbledore forces him & Snape to meet in order to resolve their differences. Also concerns Draco's role in the coming war. Please read & review!





	1. Turning Seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Things Change

By: silentauror

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; JK Rowling (our hero, yes) does {sigh}

 

Chapter 1: Turning Seventeen

Harry Potter lay awake in the Dursley’s darkened house, watching the numbers on the clock beside his bed. 11:59pm. It had been 11:59pm forever. His eyes blurred slightly, from fatigue, then snapped open again as the numbers finally changed. 12:00am. He was seventeen years old. Seventeen years old, and carrying a few secrets by now.

 

Ron and Hermione knew about the prophecy. They were about to enter their seventh year, and this would be it. Either their last year together, or else Voldemort’s downfall. They would be there for him, like always, but in the end, it would be up to him. Harry just hoped he would be able to save them all, for he was the world’s only chance. He had not yet stopped asking the universe why, of all people, it had to be him. Clumsy, sometimes foolish, him, who vastly preferred quidditch to any class or discipline, and certainly to battle of any kind. Unless it was with Malfoy. That was different.

 

What he had not yet told them was that he was probably gay. It wasn’t that he thought they would mind. It was just that he thought they had enough to think about, regarding him and his problems. Plus, it was about time they stopped thinking about him so much and finally realized they liked each other. The timing seemed right. Hermione was no longer writing to Viktor Krum, nor he to her. Hermione said they’d just “drifted apart”. Harry noticed that Ron had reacted with studied indifference and not commented at all – which was highly unusual for him. Perhaps he was learning something after all. Probably not quickly enough for Hermione, though, who had noticed Ron’s painful avoidance of the subject and quirked a quick grin at Harry. And, glad though he would be – devoutly glad – Harry was just waiting for it to happen already so that he could get adjusted to the feeling of being left out of their relationship, of having no one himself.

 

No one. Harry curled up into a ball on his side and went tried to persuade himself to go to sleep. Sweet seventeen, and still never kissed – by a boy, at least. He wondered if Dumbledore knew. The man seemed to know everything. He wondered if knowing would change Dumbledore’s mind about him. Probably not. He probably knew stranger things about other people. Still musing to himself, Harry fell asleep.

 

A week later, Harry received the long-awaited owl inviting him to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, for the remainder of the summer. He went, joyfully, leaving the Dursleys for another year. Only a few days after having arrived, Mrs. Weasley came upstairs to the room that Harry shared with Ron to ask him to come downstairs.

 

“What is it?” Harry asked, getting up at once.

 

Mrs. Weasley fixed him with a stern look. “Harry, I’m only going to tell you if I can trust you to behave yourself nicely when I say.”

 

Harry felt a surge of indignation arise. Since when had Mrs. Weasley taken to lecturing him about his behaviour? “Okay,” he said, trying to conceal his sudden anger. “What is it?”

 

She gave him a hard look. “Dumbledore and Professor Snape are here to see you.”

 

Harry fought down the obvious reaction to the latter. He forced his voice to sound calm. “Okay. What for?”

 

Seeming relieved, Mrs. Weasley said, “I don’t know, Harry. They’ll explain themselves, I’m sure. Now, I want you to be civil to Professor Snape – just try, do you hear me? He is an Order member, after all.”

 

Harry nodded numbly. “Alright. I will if he is.”

 

“No,” said Mrs. Weasley sharply, “you must be, whether or not he is. Be the bigger man if you must be, Harry.”

 

Harry had a sudden mental image of his scrawny self attempting to tower over Snape’s definitely taller form and suppressed the urge to giggle. “Okay. Fine. I’ll try.”

 

She turned left on the landing, explaining that she had to clean something in there, and to go on downstairs. Harry went. Feeling very reluctant, he opened the kitchen door and went inside, closing it after himself.

 

Dumbledore and Snape were sitting at the table; Dumbledore at the end and Snape at the side. Dumbledore waved at the seat beside him, across from Snape, and called, “Come and join us, Harry. We just have a matter to discuss.”

 

Heart sinking horribly, wondering what matter had to be discussed between himself and Snape, Harry took the offered seat. “What is it?” He asked quickly, avoiding looking at Snape.

 

Dumbledore studied Harry patiently, a look of – was it pity? – crossing his old, lined face. “Harry. Turn your face away from me. Look your professor in the eye.”

 

Totally confused, and not wanting to obey at all, Harry started to ask, “But – why, sir?”

 

“Just do it, Harry.” Dumbledore’s voice was firm.

 

Harry, eyes not leaving Dumbledore’s face, struggled for a moment longer, then gave in. He turned his head straight and looked at the man seated across from himself. Snape. His eyes were the first thing Harry noticed. Dark, but, unusually, not glittering out of malice or spite directed at himself. The hair. Longish. Black, with no grey. Greasy, like always. The face. Lined. Wary. Watching Harry as he scanned the features. The nose. Famous for its hooked shape, but really not that unusually large or disfigured.

 

“Well?” Dumbledore’s voice was gentle.

 

“Well what, sir?” Harry asked, turning back to Dumbledore.

 

“Was that so hard?”

 

“Sir?” Harry was almost more confused then he’d ever been.

 

The voice was still soft. “Harry. I wanted you to have and take the chance to look at Severus Snape as a human being for once, rather than as this person who merely exists to cause you grief. You two are like my own sons. I have had enough of your behaviour – I mean both of you,” he added, before Harry could protest, “I am well aware of the bad behaviour that has occurred on both your parts. There are many issues between you two that need resolution. This will need to occur. You know, Harry, what must happen for the Order to win the war ahead of us. You know the pressure laid on you. As the Order, we are fully prepared to help you in every way possible. Severus is one of our best wizards, and utterly loyal. There are no two people more in my trust than the two of you. He can and will help you. You will need his help. I will not ask you to become friends, but I cannot abide this resistance between the two of you any longer. We can none of us afford it. I must insist that you begin your relationship again. From the beginning.”

 

There was a bit of a silence. Harry looked at the table. Dumbledore continued. “I am hereby decreeing that the two of you meet on a regular basis, outside of class, to get to know one another and get yourselves to a state where you can work together without animosity. Beginning with tonight. Is that clear?”

 

Neither Severus nor Harry made a sound.

 

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I hate to sound like a nagging parent – though that is indeed what I currently feel like – but in order to assure you both some measure of trust in me and protection from one another, I will be leaving Fawkes to watch over your meetings until you feel that you trust one another sufficiently not to need him. Needless to say, if he feels that anything I would not approve of is occurring – hurtful words or actions, in other words – he will let me know at once and I will intervene. I hope this will never be necessary.”

 

Dumbledore looked at the two. Suddenly he smiled fondly. “How are alike you are, in so many ways,” he said, “though I realize that at the present, neither of you are happy with this idea. These meetings are not optional, I’m afraid. I must have order within my Order. You may proceed. Good night!”


	2. Talking

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I don’t own these people (though some of their actions are definitely mine!)

 

Chapter 2: Talking

 

With a sudden flash, he disappeared, and Fawkes was left in his place on the chair. He looked about the room and fluttered up onto a high cupboard and settled himself in, looking down on Severus and Harry with watchful eyes.

 

No one was saying anything. Harry risked a glance at Snape, to see the other man staring at his own folded hands on the table. “Do you hate me?” he asked bluntly.

 

Startled at Harry’s directness, Snape’s head snapped up. “Potter – I… ” He seemed at a loss for words. Harry waited. Snape’s cool returned. “I see no reason why I should not.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Harry said, “Well, we are on the same side of the war, how’s that for a reason? And what the hell did I ever do to you, to make you be such a jerk to me all this time? Because you have been, right since my first year.”

 

“Potter,” Snape growled, shaking his greasy hair back from his forehead, “watch your language.”

 

“Language be damned!” Harry shouted, losing his temper for a moment, “And when I ask what I did to you, I mean me, not my father or any of his friends, ME!”

 

Snape was silent. The long fingers of his left hand were drawing circles on the table top.

 

“Well?” Harry demanded.

 

Snape shifted slightly in his seat. When he spoke, his voice was soft and sad. “Potter, this is difficult for me to speak about. You must realize how much like your father you look. It is difficult, sometimes, to remember that you are not him, especially as your behaviour is often similar.”

 

“But you’ve been biased against me from the beginning.” Harry hesitated. “Do you want to tell me anything more about your school days?”

 

He expected a reprimand, but none came forth. Harry chanced another look at Snape’s face, and was shocked to see a thin film of tears on the man’s dark eyes. “You must have some idea of what it was like from when you looked in the Pensieve.”

 

Remorse washed over Harry. He had totally forgotten about that. How could he have? He had always felt terrible about that, and had never apologized. “Sir, I – I always meant – ”

 

Snape cut him off. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. And don’t call me ‘sir’.”

 

“Sorry, sir – prof – what should I call you, then?” Harry was confused again. Snape had always told him off for forgetting the “sir”, not for using it.

 

“Since we are supposed to be getting on better terms, why don’t you call me Severus,” said Snape, sounding tired and like he didn’t care at all. He rubbed one hand over his forehead as though he had a headache.

 

“O – okay,” said Harry uncertainly. “Um, but I really want to say this – I’ve always been horribly ashamed of myself for – what I did that day, and – ”

 

“Potter!”

 

“I need to tell you this!” Harry burst out desperately. “That’s the one thing that I did to you, that I need to apologize for! I’ve always felt so bad about doing that, I had no business and I felt horrible about it. I was so upset after, because I thought that what you’d been saying about my dad was true all along, and that he must have really been a jerk – that’s why I snuck into Umbridge’s fire that time, I had to come and talk to Sirius and Remus and find out what my dad really was like.” He said this all in one breath, then went on, as Snape hadn’t interrupted him yet. “I’m sorry. I had no right to see that at all, but I was feeling all vulnerable, because you got to see all my embarrassing memories with my cousin and my aunt and stuff, and I’ve always been fascinated by Pensieves – I looked in it in Dumbledore’s office, too. I’m sorry, though. I had no right.”

 

Snape was silent. The tears in his eyes had no yet left.

 

Harry asked tentatively, “So… will you accept my apology?”

 

Snape still said nothing, but nodded his head.

 

Harry didn’t know what to say. “Sir – er, I mean – if I’m going to call you by your first name, will you call me Harry? It seems only fair, and maybe that way, if you call me that, you won’t just think of my dad all the time.”

 

A tear slipped out of Snape’s eye and ran down his pale cheek, and still he said nothing. Harry was alarmed. He didn’t know what to say. Had he been hurtful? He looked quickly up at Fawkes, but the phoenix was still watching them placidly. “Er… did I say something wrong?” Harry asked uncertainly.

 

Snape muttered something to himself and dug the heels of both his hands into his eyes. Without preamble, he began to talk. “My parents did not care for children and never meant my conception to happen. They did not care for one another, either, and my childhood with them was a nightmare. I come from an old family of purebloods, and they made it clear to me that the only way to exonerate my own existence was to become a successful Dark wizard. I came to Hogwarts. I made few friends until my later years, when my skill in the Dark Arts came to the attentions of Lucius Malfoy and his friends. I became a Death Eater. Then Dumbledore saved me from myself and made me see what was important, and I have never looked back. My family disowned me, or would have, if I had ever returned to them. Since then, I have had no friends and become the way I am. At school, your father and his friends were obviously… on the right side of things, where I was in the wrong. But they were very talented, and threw it in my face. Sometimes, as you saw, they could be very cruel. And I hated them for it. And then I blocked it from my mind, until you came to Hogwarts and I was forced to remember your father through you all over again.”

 

“But I’m not him. I’m also my mother, who was nice to you, even though you were horrible to her, and I’m also just myself. I wasn’t brought up by my parents – or anyone at all,” Harry added bitterly, “so I’ve formed my own personality. I can’t help it if I look like my father. And I can’t help any of the stuff he did to you. I can apologize, on behalf of all Potters, from this point forth, but that’s the best I can do.”

 

Snape looked up at this, and despite the moisture in his eyes, a small smile came forth. Harry was taken aback. He had never seen the man smile before, not a real smile, not holding any malice or mockery. It had an odd effect on Snape’s face, softening it. “I don’t really expect you to apologize for your father, Potter,” he said, still smiling a bit.

 

“You’re supposed to be calling me Harry,” Harry said stubbornly.

 

“I haven’t heard you call me Severus yet,” Snape countered.

 

“There’s been no occasion to,” Harry retorted, but not really angry.

 

“You could have said it right there,” Snape pointed out. “At the end of your sentence.”

 

“So could you,” Harry rallied.

 

“Is this a pissing contest?” Snape asked, rolling his eyes, and taking Harry by surprise. “Fine. I guess, as the older one of us, I must be the bigger man.” As Harry recalled his short conversation with Mrs. Weasley, Snape went on. “I will begin using your proper name starting tonight, Harry.” Immediate after saying this, Snape examined his finger nails, as though embarrassed at having said it.

 

Harry caught his and grinned. “Thank you, Severus.” He paused. “When Dumbledore said he was leaving Fawkes to watch us, until we trusted each other not to hurt each other – well, was that because you were honestly worried about me hurting you, too?”

 

Snape dropped his hands back onto the table and looked at them. “Well, you have hurt me before, during Occlumency lessons – in more ways than one.”

 

Startled again by this, Harry realized that all the nasty things he could barely recall having said to Snape over the years must have registered with him at some level. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you,” he said, without thinking first. “I – I just thought it wouldn’t make any difference, somehow.” He realized how thoughtless that sounded. “I’m sorry, that’s a terrible attitude to have. I really am sorry.”

 

Severus looked up at the boy. No, young man. He had just turned seventeen. “It’s alright, Harry,” he said tiredly. “No doubt I have hurt you over the years, as well. I admit that I have been extremely unfair during Potions lessons at times, and also rather harsh with you in particular. I ask you to forgive me for this attitude on my part as well.”

 

Harry nodded automatically. “Was it just that you were punishing my father through me, or what?”

 

“That, and… I suppose I have always been rather, well… jealous of you, as well.” Snape said this without looking at Harry, who couldn’t believe his ears. “I was also jealous of your father. And Black. And Lupin, at least until I discovered he was a werewolf. Then I felt I had something on them… but never mind that. You’ve been famous since your birth. Your parents wanted you. Everyone was excited about the child of the great James Potter and Lily Evans, the Hogwarts Heads and Dumbledore’s favourites. And then, with their – tragic – death, you became even more famous. I have heard that your childhood and summers with your aunt and uncle have been quite unpleasant, and since our Occlumency lessons, I have realized that for myself. But you have friends, and you have had the chance to prove yourself and your own worth as a wizard over and over again. I never had that.”

 

“And that’s why you became a Death Eater,” Harry said, watching him closely. The other man nodded. “But you heard what Dumbledore said. He said you were like a son to him, too. You know how much he trusts you.” Even as he spoke, Harry could hardly believe that he was reassuring Snape. “And yeah, I guess you know how it’s been for me with the Dursleys, but do you also know how much I’ve gone through with other students at Hogwarts? Every time I do something, everyone thinks I’m showing off again, or making stuff up, and all I’m ever doing is trying to save my own skin.”

 

“Or that of others,” Snape said quietly. “I know, Potter. Harry, sorry,” he corrected quickly. “I guess we are more similar than we’d thought. Both sort of orphans. Both rather isolated. I know it can’t have been easy, hearing about the Prophecy when you did, and carrying that around with you all the time. I am aware of it. I don’t mean to be such a cranky old man, Harry. I just seem to have grown in the wrong directions.”

 

Harry looked at the older man and saw deep sadness lining all the features. His dark eyes were unfathomable. “It’s not too late to change, Severus,” he said softly. “And I’m sure you’re not always a cranky old man. I’ve seen you be nice to Malfoy – Draco,” he added quickly. “And you’re not an old man, anyway.”


	3. Secrets

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: still don’t own them

 

Chapter 3: Secrets

 

The corners of Severus’ mouth quirked upward into another smile. “Thank you, Harry. I’m glad you’ve noticed I’m at least human. I never meant to become this way, but what does one do?”

 

Harry hesitated. Then, knowing Dumbledore would be proud of him for saying this, he said, “Well, maybe we could try to – you know – actually become friends. I know it might be weird, being friends with a student, but I’ll be graduated at the end of this year, and then we’ll just be colleagues in the Order, right?”

 

Severus hesitated. “Yes. Yes, I suppose so. But you would not want to be friends with me. You have friends already.” He would not meet Harry’s eyes.

 

Harry shook his head and said stoutly, “You can never have too many friends. Come on. Let’s start over again. From the beginning.” He held out a hand over the table for Snape to shake. After a moment, the Potions master took it, and they shook firmly.

 

“From the start,” Snape agreed. He suddenly smiled again.

 

“What?” asked Harry.

 

“Who will I pick on in Potions now?” mused Snape. “Now that Longbottom has improved so much, and you’re off limits as a target… and I’m sure you would be displeased if I harassed Weasley…”

 

Harry suddenly realized that Snape was kidding. “Severus!” he said, still feeling strange calling the man by his first name. He laughed, out of sheer surprise. Snape had just made a joke. A bad joke, but a joke, nonetheless. “Hey,” he said, something occurring to him.

 

“What?”

 

“You haven’t looked at me yet.”

 

”What?” Snape asked again, sounding confused.

 

“I had to look you in the eye before, remember? You’ve hardly looked right at me for this whole talk already. I think you should.”

 

“We have already enjoyed much eye contact during Occlumency lessons,” said Snape, and it sounded like he was stalling, sounding just a little bit panicked.

 

“That was different. And you still hated me then,” said Harry, somehow sure that this was no longer the case. “Come on. Let’s give it a try.”

 

Severus sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.” He straightened up and looked Harry in the eye.

 

“Not my way. Dumbledore’s,” Harry corrected, his eyes seeking Snape’s. There. An odd feeling passed between the two. Somehow, Harry felt that he could almost have heard Snape’s thoughts, but the other man was blocking him. A prolonged silence fell. Harry said, “Sir? Are you reading my thoughts?”

 

Snape’s eyes glittered, but in amusement. “Now why would I do that?”

 

“Because you can?” Harry suggested. “I’m sure you could do it without saying the spell and using your wand.”

 

The black eyes glittered again, and once again, Snape smiled. It really had a shocking effect on his face. It made him look younger. Gentler. “Indeed I can. But I wasn’t trying to,” he added hastily.

 

“What was I thinking?”

 

“Nothing specific. You were feeling mostly wary, I believe. Not sure what to expect from me. Am I correct?”

 

“Yes,” Harry admitted. Then, “It’s not fair, you knowing so much about me. I mean, I know more about you now that you’ve said, but it’s hardly the same. It makes me feel very powerless.”

 

Severus considered this. “What could we do to make you feel less powerless toward me?”

 

Harry thought. “Tell me your deepest, darkest secret.” He grinned, very much aware of how childish that sounded.

 

Severus said, in even tones, “You already know them. My childhood. I never talk about that. Becoming a Death Eater. Being jealous of your father. And you.”

 

“Isn’t there anything else?”

 

Suddenly, Snape blushed. Harry was shocked, again. “I can’t tell you the last one.”

 

“Why not? I won’t tell anyone. Just like you won’t tell anyone about – about my cousin and all that,” Harry persuaded.

 

“Potter. This one is very personal.”

 

“Harry,” Harry corrected. He hesitated. “Come on. I’ll tell you my darkest secret, too.”

 

“Then we would be unbalanced again.”

 

“Nah, you’re right, you’ve told me lots. Come on. It’ll help us be friends.”

 

“Friends trade secrets?” Snape sounded doubtful.

 

“If they trust each other, yes.”

 

“Do you trust me yet, Harry?” Snape looked him in the eye, and Harry was again surprised to see that the other man looked rather vulnerable. He was expecting Harry to reject this.

 

Harry wasn’t sure. If he told Severus what he was planning to tell him, he must be able to trust him. He hadn’t even told Ron and Hermione yet. He made his decision. “Yes,” he said firmly, looking Severus in the eyes. “I trust you. Do you trust me?”

 

Hedging, Severus looked away and said, very quietly, “I don’t deserve anyone’s trust, least of all yours.”

 

“What? That’s nonsense,” said Harry briskly. “If Dumbledore trusts you, then I certainly can. I don’t care that you were a Death Eater. Let’s just forget it. It’s over, and you’re on the right side. I believe you and Dumbledore. Come on. ‘Fess up.”

 

Snape turned lobster-red again and covered his face. “I can’t believe I’m actually about to say this,” he mumbled into his hands. “Potter – Harry – I’m – I like men.”

 

“You’re gay?” Harry was incredulous.

 

Snape turned redder yet and kept his eyes over his face. He groaned, the words muffled, “I knew I shouldn’t have said!”

 

“No – Severus – it’s okay – that’s what I was going to tell you!” Harry exclaimed.

 

Snape’s face appeared again. “What?!”

 

“Yeah,” said Harry, feeling not only his face, but also his neck and ears turning a deep, lasting shade of scarlet. “I’m gay, too.”

 

Snape looked distinctly wrong-footed. “Do you – do you have a boyfriend? Oh, Merlin,” he groaned suddenly, putting his hands back up,“ – don’t tell me, you and Weasley – ”

 

Harry laughed heartily at this. “Are you kidding?! He’s hardly my type. Besides,” he added, trying to get Snape’s face back in sight again, “he and Hermione – well, eventually they’ll realize, I hope.” He shrugged. “But me, no, there’s no one.”

 

Severus attempted to calm himself. He had never before willingly shared a secret, and it felt very strange. “Oh. I see. Do they know? About you, I mean.”

 

Harry shook his head, biting his lip. “No. I have to tell them soon. I’m sure they’ll be fine with it, but it still won’t be easy.”

 

Something occurred to Snape. “So, am I the first person you’ve told?” He felt a bit shy about asking.

 

Harry nodded. “Yep. You’re the lucky guy. To get told,” he added hastily, lest Snape misjudge what he had just said. He felt himself turning red again. Way to go, out yourself to your professor and then make it sound like you’re hitting on him – good job, Potter!

 

Snape blushed, too. “I need hardly tell you that you are also the only person I have told,” he said stiffly.

 

Harry’s eyes twinkled greenly. “Does that mean that you don’t have a boyfriend, either?”

 

Still red, Severus looked away again. “No,” he mumbled. “Obviously.” He attempted to make his eyes flash at Potter’s cheek, but failed completely. “Potter,” he complained suddenly, “what are you doing to me? I’ve never felt so vulnerable before, at least, not in a very long time.”

 

Harry looked at him. “Why are you calling me ‘Potter’ again?” he asked. “Never mind, it’s okay, just call me Harry from now on – except in class, I guess. But I’m feeling a bit vulnerable, too. I mean, you know more about me than anyone now!”

 

“I guess I do,” Severus marvelled. “I suppose I should feel privileged.”

 

Harry looked at him sharply, looking for signs of sarcasm, but there were none. Just a completely different expression on the older man’s face than Harry had ever seen before. He did indeed look… human. And not ugly. Harry had always considered Snape ugly, but he found that it was definitely not the case. Rather aristocratic features, to be sure, but not at all bad. He glanced at Fawkes. The phoenix was asleep. “Look,” he said, nudging Severus’ hand and nodding his head toward the bird.

 

Snape laughed softly. “I guess we passed the test tonight.”

 

Harry laughed, too. “I guess so. So,” he continued, suddenly feeling a bit shy, “do we still meet again sometime?”

 

Snape’s eyes were very opaque and hard to read. “Yes. Dumbledore said regularly. One chat does not build a relationship.”

 

Harry felt a bit let down by this. He thought they’d certainly covered a lot of ground, more than one “chat”’s worth, for sure. “Okay. Are you coming back here soon, then?” he asked. Damn! Why do I have to sound like a nervous date? he wondered silently.

 

Wait a second! What did he just think? Nervous DATE? Where in Merlin’s name had THAT come from? Now he was freaking himself out. He looked at Snape and tried desperately to hide this most recent thought from showing on his face.

 

Severus nodded, in answer to the question. “Yes. I’ll come back tomorrow. If you think you can stand another couple of hours with the greasy old bat,” he added, watching Harry’s reaction closely.

 

Harry felt himself flush. Had Snape read that thought in his mind, or had he heard himself and Ron call him that all behind his back? “I said before, you’re not old,” he mumbled, feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself.

 

“But greasy?” Harry looked up to see Severus’ eyes glimmer in amusement.

 

“I didn’t mean – !” he was aghast.

 

“It’s alright. I know I don’t put much thought or effort into my appearance, I know.” Severus looked away. He looked embarrassed.

 

Harry felt terrible. He watched Severus get up and walk around the table to the kitchen door. “I’ll come and see you out, sir.” Snape didn’t say anything, and Harry followed him up the stairs to the ground floor.

 

It was totally dark in the hallway leading to the foyer. Suddenly, Snape turned around and pinned Harry to a portrait-less bit of wall. “What – ?!”

 

“Shh!” Snape breathed. “The portraits!” He placed both hands on Harry’s shoulders and stared deeply into his eyes. The only light was from the moon, coming in through the window above the front door. Harry could only see the other man’s face, shining whitely in the shadows of the hallway, and the glimmer in his dark eyes. He tried desperately to shut away any thoughts of nervous-date-ness. Severus smiled just then, and his face came nearer to Harry’s. “What did I tell you about calling me ‘sir’?” he asked in a soft voice.

 

“Oh! I – ”

 

“Quietly, now, Harry,” Severus said, and Harry could hear the laughter in his voice. “This is the way I punish pupils for calling me by the wrong title or name.” His face was nearer yet. Harry could see his eyes. He concentrated, willed himself to See – and he did – he saw attraction in the other man’s eyes, and a yearning to come alive again. He realized that Severus had placed his face that close just so that Harry could see into his eyes like that, and that he was waiting for Harry’s reaction. Harry bit his lip and nodded, ever so slightly. Severus brought his face even closer, and gently placed his lips against Harry’s.

 

I am kissing Severus Snape, Harry thought suddenly, and nearly panicked. Then it occurred to him how very nice it felt to be kissed, period. And as it went on, as their mouths opened to each other, and their tongues met and probed each other’s mouths, it occurred to Harry that it was particularly nice to be kissed by this particular man. He didn’t want it to end. He wondered now, if all that animosity was not, at least for his part, perhaps related to attraction and frustration.

 

He was not aware of his arms going around Severus and pulling him closer, of his hands gathering fistfuls of black robe. Severus’ fingers were in Harry’s hair. They broke apart, breathing heavily, looking warily at one another.

 

Harry spoke first, in a whisper. “Wow, I don’t remember detentions with you ever being like THAT!”

 

Severus grinned in the dark, partly out of relief at Harry’s reaction. “I know. You   
probably don’t want to know that I thought of it, though!”

 

As Harry attempted to absorb this new and interesting fact, Severus’ face came in again, and he more than willingly leaned forward to meet it. Gently catching the other man’s lower lip between his lips, Harry sucked very lightly, and was pleased to hear the other moan softly in response. Strong arms pulled him in closer, and the kiss continued. Severus pulled away and began to kiss Harry’s neck, leaving at least one large, red mark.

 

“Severus!” Harry moaned, and let his hands travel further down, lightly, to settle on Snape’s ass. It was surprisingly firm. Harry realized he had never seen the man without a robe on. In this light, he would not be able to see it, anyway, so he began exploring its shape with by feel, also pulling himself closer. Their hips were touching. Severus moaned again, very softly.

 

“Harry.” Harry was kissing his neck, leaving marks on him in turn. “Harry.” Severus pushed himself away from the boy. “I doubt very much this is what Dumbledore intended, in terms of getting less hostile.” He was having difficulty maintaining the evenness of his tone.

 

“This is – ” Harry kissed the corner of his mouth “ – less hostile. And you started it.” He placed his mouth on Severus’, and it was all the other man could do pull away again.

 

“No – listen, Harry – I shouldn’t have done that – you’re my student, this can’t happen –”

 

“But it is happening, and we both want it. And like I said, I’m graduating very soon. We’ll be discreet. Please. I need this. I need you.”

 

“I – you can’t really want me. I don’t want you using me, for experimenting, or whatever.”

 

Harry looked up into Severus’ eyes and saw the intense vulnerability there again. “That’s not it at all, Severus,” he whispered. “It’s you I want.” The other man still hesitated. “Please.”

 

Severus could not resist the Please. But – “But I’m old and ugly.”

 

Harry smiled tenderly. Why hadn’t he seen this before? “No you’re not,” he said. “You’re not that old at all, and you are definitely not ugly. I find you very attractive, in fact.”

 

“You’re just saying that.” Harry could hear the mistrust in Snape’s voice, the fear.

 

“I thought you trusted me.” Harry tilted Severus’ head so that their eyes met again. “I trust you. You need to believe me. You’re attractive, accept it! I could be saying the same things – I’m small, skinny, I have glasses – who would want me? I could just as easily be saying that you could never fancy me.”

 

Severus hesitated, then gave in. “Fine. But no one must know.”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Your friends will find out.”

 

“I know they will. It’ll be okay.”

 

“Dumbledore will find out.”

 

“Somehow, I don’t really think he’ll care.”

 

“Potter – ” Harry pinched Snape’s ass fiercely. “ – Ouch! Sorry! Harry – are you certain?” Severus searched the boy’s eyes intensely.

 

Harry tilted his head back so that the other could read his emotions and thoughts clearly, leaving his mind as open as possible. “I’m certain. I want this.”

 

Severus could resist it no longer. He brought his mouth to Harry’s in a crushing kiss, which he noticed was rather enthusiastically returned. Harry’s hands were on his ass again, their hips were touching again – and now something else became apparent, too; another shape was – emerging between the two.

 

“Is that you?” Harry murmured against Severus’ mouth.

 

“I thought it was you,” Snape murmured back. He slid one pale, long-fingered hand down between them and placed it on Harry’s erection. Harry made a soft sound and pressed himself into Severus’ hand. He put his own hand against the other’s erection as Severus mirrored the motion. Their arms were around each other again, their crotches pushing against each other, enjoying the friction created by the layers of material separating them. Harry moved slightly, so that he could hook his left leg around Severus’ right, giving them more space to get closer. They were breathing into each other’s mouths, now, rubbing hard against each other. Harry felt close to exploding, in a much more intense way than in any wet dream. Severus slid both hands behind Harry, onto his ass, and lifted the boy slightly off the floor, and squeezed. A little sound forming in the back of his throat, Harry thrust against Severus’ thigh again, and came in a warm rush. He held himself, very still, waiting for Severus to come himself. He heard the other man’s breathing quicken, still gripping Harry’s ass, he pushed harder, harder – his breath caught against Harry’s mouth, and he came, too. They held each other tightly, Harry’s mouth making small movements against Severus’ neck; Severus panting on Harry’s shoulder.

 

Eventually, they collected themselves. Harry pressed a kiss onto Severus’ bruised-feeling lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

 

Severus felt floored by this. He didn’t know what to say. He was so filled with gratitude himself… “I should be thanking you,” he whispered back.

 

Harry reached out and smoothed back a lock of Severus’ long, dark hair in an amusingly protective gesture for one so much younger than he. He stopped, and touched Severus’ hair again. “Do you use gel?” he asked, still whispering.

 

Severus blushed, still shy, despite just having come in his pants at the wiles of this young man he thought he’d hated for so long. “Yes.”

 

“That’s what it is! It’s not greasy at all, you git, you just use too much gel!” Harry giggled and kissed Snape’s neck.

 

“Oh… I, um… it gets frizzy otherwise,” said Severus, feeling like a teenager again.

 

Harry laughed and shook his head, indicating that no further explanation was necessary. “Come on,” he said, “look at my hair! I’m the one who needs gel or something!”

 

“I like your hair,” Severus said, breathing in the scent of it. “It’s so soft.”

 

Harry looked up the older man, and very deliberately leaned forward and kissed him, very tenderly, very gently. The kiss grew very passionate, and soon they had their fingers tangled in each other’s hair again.

 

“I was on my way out,” Severus said softly, pulling away at last.

 

“Not me who held you up,” Harry said, smirking.

 

“I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

 

“Is that a promise?”

 

“Yes,” said Severus, wondering when the last time he’d promised anybody anything was. “Yes. I’ll be back.”

 

“You’d better be. Or,” Harry’s eyes glinted in the dark, “I’ll have to punish you!”

 

Snape snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

 

“Is that a challenge?” There was a distinct purr to the boy’s voice. Really, thought Severus, for one so inexperienced, that was very… interesting. As in, arousing.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Consider it taken. Same time tomorrow!”

 

Severus looked down wondrously at the boy. “I’ll be here.” He kissed Harry quickly. “Good night.”


	4. Further Developments

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: still don’t own them, alas

 

Chapter 4: Further Developments

 

Harry watched the door close behind Severus Snape. Alone in the darkness of the hall, he put his hands to his cheeks to find them very warm. His lips felt a bit puffy. His body was still in high gear, and his mind even more so. What had he just done? He felt euphoric, but something else, too. As he stood there, hands on his face, he realized that this other feeling was panic. Not a lot of it, but a little edge. What had he just done? Dumbledore had asked him to get to be on civil speaking terms with Snape, and he’d gone and gotten sexual with the man. He had come in his pants, humping his teacher’s thigh, for crying out loud! Harry pulled his wand out of his robe pocket, pointed it at himself and muttered “Scourgify.” The mess in his pants disappeared. What was he going to say to the others? Harry sat down on the bottom step, very quietly, so as not to wake that wretched portrait. What was he going to say next time he saw Snape? What would Snape say? Oh, Merlin. What would Dumbledore say when he found out?

 

Harry dug his fingers into his hair, staring at the floor, and suddenly remembered the feel of Severus’ fingers there just moments before. “Shit,” he said aloud. What would he say about the whole thing, himself? Where in Merlin’s name had all that come from? One moment they were managing to talk normally, the next, they were kissing, and worse. And there was no denying, whatever Snape felt about the whole thing, that Harry had liked it very much. What was that? Sexual frustration? Or had he always had feelings for the man? And where had it come from on Snape’s part? Loneliness? Probably. Harry groaned inwardly, suspecting heartily that their next meeting would be rather awkward. He got up and trudged upstairs, vowing not to say anything to anyone. Ever. He could only imagine Ron’s horrified reaction. And the twins. That would very likely shut them up! They would not be able to say anything to that at all!

 

Harry went into the room he and Ron shared, and flopped down on his bed. Ron came in a moment after.

 

“Hey, mate,” he said. “Heard you come up.”

 

“Hi,” Harry mumbled into his pillow.

 

He felt, rather than saw Ron’s concern. “What’s up? You were gone for a long time.”

 

“I know. I…” Harry could not finish his sentence. He was coming down from his high and feeling rather stupid. Snape could not have meant any of it. He felt like a fool.

 

“Harry?” Ron sounded a bit anxious. “What were you doing? Mum said something about meeting with Dumbledore and Snape.”

 

“Mmm-hmm.”

 

“What did they want?” He sounded horrified.

 

Harry said nothing for a moment. What had Snape wanted? “Dumbledore wanted us to talk and resolve our differences.”

 

“Ha!” Ron snorted. “Fat chance!”

 

“He said…” Harry hesitated. “He said that, because of the Prophecy and everything, it’ll probably be this year, with the whole war and everything, and that he wants all his Order on the same side, and that he knows I’ll need… Snape’s help… and that we didn’t have a choice. He left Fawkes to watch us in case we attacked each other.”

 

“Did he attack you?” Ron sounded anxious again.

 

If he only knew, thought Harry, a feeling like a heavy weight settling on his chest. “No. It was… fine.”

 

“Are you sure, Harry? You don’t look so good.”

 

“I’m fine,” Harry said curtly. “I’m just… tired.”

 

“Okay,” said Ron uncertainly. “Do you have to talk to him again?”

 

“Yeah, Dumbledore reckons we should meet until we can at least trust each other and not need Fawkes there anymore.”

 

Ron snorted again. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

 

Harry decided that it would not be prudent to tell his friend that Fawkes had actually fallen asleep, so friendly had he and Snape gotten that evening. Or, in fact, anything more about the entire incident at all. “I’m tired,” he said again. “I think I’ll go to bed.”

 

Ron look taken aback. “Oh. Okay, then. It’s – er – still pretty early, so I think maybe I’ll go and see if Hermione fancies another game of chess or something. Good night.”

 

“Good night.” Harry said, still not looking up. He wriggled himself under his blankets, still fully clothed, but kicking off his trainers, and promptly fell asleep.

 

Morning came. Harry woke up early, having gone to bed fairly early, and looked across the room at Ron. He was still asleep, snoring very lightly, his breath causing one lock of rampantly red hair to rise and fall over his pale skin with each breath. Harry smiled fondly. His friend, who he could trust not to ask questions when Harry wanted to avoid them. He would have to tell Ron soon. About being gay, not about Snape.

 

Snape. Harry sighed inwardly. He was coming back tonight. Things would be clear then. Hopefully. Quietly, Harry got up, dressed, and went downstairs. He would have liked to have gone for a walk, but obviously, that wasn’t permitted outside of Hogwarts without a guardian of some sort. Instead, he sat down at the long table and helped himself to the toast Mrs. Weasley had immediately passed him, knowing it was all he ever ate for breakfast.

 

“Juice, dear?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“How was your meeting last night?” she asked, watching Harry closely.

 

“It was okay.”

 

“Just okay?”

 

“Yeah. It was fine.”

 

“What did Dumbledore and Professor Snape want?” Mrs. Weasley was relentless.

 

Harry repeated what he’d told Ron the night before.

 

“Oh, I think that’s a wonderful idea!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. “I know Professor Snape hasn’t been very fair to you in the past, Harry, but if he’s willing to overlook your differences, I think this is an excellent opportunity for you both to leave those issues behind and start all over again.”

 

She was beaming all over her plump face, and Harry could not bear it for another moment. “I think I’ll go and see if Ron and Hermione are up yet,” he said abruptly, leaving his toast unfinished.

 

Mrs. Weasley looked startled, but said, “Alright, then, dear. If they’re not awake, get them up, would you?”

 

“Okay.” Harry went back upstairs, sighing.

 

The rest of the day was spent with him moping, as Hermione put it, from one place to another, half-heartedly doing his chores and playing games. Finally, at long last, evening arrived. At precisely eight o’clock, the front door was softly opened. Harry was waiting in the kitchen, and listened as soft footsteps made their way down to the basement where he sat. Fawkes was already perched on the cabinet, having just arrived a few minutes before. The kitchen door opened, and Severus paused, his eyes on Harry, then slowly entered the room and closed the door behind him.

 

“Hello,” he said, sounding wary.

 

“Hi.” Harry spoke to his hands.

 

He heard the older man sigh and sit down opposite himself. “What is it, Harry?”

 

Harry winced slightly at hearing his name, spoken so familiarly by that familiar voice. “Nothing.”

 

Snape sounded irritated. “I’m not a fool. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

 

He was not speaking like a teacher yet, and this was a good sign. Harry chanced a look at him. “Sir, I…”

 

“Don’t call me that.” Snape’s voice was calm, but Harry could hear something else beneath it. Was it worry?

 

“I – sorry. I just – oh, I don’t know!” Harry burst out.

 

“What don’t you know?” The voice was even.

 

“I – I don’t know what happened – last night.” Harry felt the ready blush crawl up onto his face and settle there.

 

As he was looking at the table, he could not see Snape’s face, but only the longer, pale fingers which folded into themselves on the table across from him. “Harry. I wondered if this would happen. I suppose we should talk about it.” He glanced at Fawkes, who was watching serenely. Sounding rather awkward, he asked, “What – what did you feel about what happened – yesterday?”

 

Harry’s blush remained planted firmly in place. Choosing the safe answer, “I don’t know what to think.”

 

Severus sighed, and when Harry chanced another look at him, saw that he looked very tired, as though he hadn’t slept. “Are you regretting it?” he asked, and his voice was sharp. As though he expected Harry to.

 

“No – but are you?” Harry stammered.

 

Severus was silent for a minute. When Harry finally looked at him, he answered. “No. I cannot say that I am. I do not know what you will choose to do from this point onward, but if it – ”

 

“Stop,” Harry interrupted. “I just said I didn’t regret it. If I have any say in this, I want things to go on like they started yesterday. I was thinking that you were regretting it.”

 

“Hardly that,” Severus said softly. “I don’t know that I’ve ever had a better day in my whole life.”

 

That statement caught Harry by surprise. “Really?” he asked, feeling very much like he was just a dumb seventeen-year-old for once.

 

Snape nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Although I spent most of the night lying awake, wondering if you would be panicking about what happened and why you let yourself get into a situation where you were practically being molested by your school teacher. And wondering what on earth Dumbledore would say if he knew what had happened, and what would happen if you changed your mind and told him.” He fell silent again, and stole another look at the phoenix, who was still watching benignly. “Not that I expected you would,” he added quietly, “but you cannot help but wonder. I would have lost both my job and Dumbledore’s trust. And you.”

 

“Not me,” Harry said, also speaking softly. “Although I did panic a bit at first. I was thinking that you were the one who was going to regret it, and that you would wonder why on earth you were getting involved with a student. I was thinking it would be all awkward tonight.”

 

“Are we alright?” Severus asked, searching Harry’s face. “What’s going to – ?”

 

“Happen?” Harry finished for him. He smiled, feeling a bit shy by his impending boldness. “The same as yesterday. But tomorrow night, we won’t have to feel awkward.”

 

Severus’ shoulders sagged with relief. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

 

Harry studied the other’s face again. It was classical. Beautiful. He reached out and took a strand of silky black hair, rubbing it between his fingers and thumb. He said, “It’s soft.”

 

Hardly breathing, Severus said, voice tight, “Less gel.”

 

Harry stood up and leaned across the table and put his mouth against Snape’s, holding the man’s face in both his hands. The kiss was returned immediately and warmly. As it progressed, Severus pulled Harry closer, onto the table top. Suddenly he pulled away, took out his wand and cast several strong Silencing and locking spells at the kitchen door. Severus wrapped his arms around the young man and pulled him close. Harry, drowning in delight, buried his face in the older man’s neck

 

“Come up here,” he said into Severus’ ear. He pulled Snape encouragingly onto the table with him, onto himself. Their two bodies fit together perfectly, and began to move against each other’s immediately. Harry drew Severus’ mouth down to his own, kissed him hard, then broke away, saying, “Yeah, I’m sure. That this is what I want. I think I’ve wanted it for a long time.”

 

Severus’ face drew away, and Harry saw his eyes widen. “Me, too,” he whispered, sounding like he hardly believed his own daring. Harry’s lips curved in a smile, and he pulled Severus down to him again. They were rubbing against each other’s erections, through many layers of fabric, each feeling the other’s hardness.

 

“Do you feel that?” Harry whispered. “I’m hard for you.” He could feel a direct response to these words, as the man above him grew harder yet.

 

“Then let me do something for you,” Severus whispered back, and began unhooking Harry’s robes. He unbuttoned Harry’s school shirt and pants, pausing to rub his thumbs in circles over Harry’s nipples. Then Severus pulled Harry’s pants, releasing his throbbing erection. He kissed Harry’s nipples, his toned belly, and trailed kisses down to his crotch. Pause, and a brief look up at Harry, confirming, then Severus gently placed his mouth on Harry’s member. It felt warm and wet and nothing but wonderful. Harry moaned and tangled his fingers into Severus’ hair. The sensations mounted and mounted, and Harry was bucking his hips upward, off the scrubbed wooden table. Severus did not relent, or release Harry from this wonderful torment, but kept up his ministrations until Harry cried out, hips leaping from the table, feeling his come rush out in a warm flood, into Severus’ waiting mouth.

 

Severus swallowed, and moved back up Harry’s body until he was lying beside him, mouth just inches away. Harry put his fingers back in Severus’ hair, limp and spent, and whispered “Thank you,” just before kissing Snape’s mouth again. It was fascinating – amazing – to taste himself there. Harry moved his leg so that his thigh was touching Severus’ erection. He reacted immediately, pushing forward into Harry’s thigh. “Time to return the favour,” Harry whispered. He scrunched himself downward until his face was at the right place, and began to fumble with the many fastenings of Snape’s robes. “I – I’ve never done this before,” he whispered hesitantly, looking up at Severus’ face.

 

Severus snorted. “Oh, and like I have,” he said, rolling his eyes, but with an indulgent smile.

 

Harry smiled back, feeling both relieved and touched. Of course he hadn’t known that. He finally reached the pants layer, undid the zips and buttons, and the poor man’s erection flew forth from its prison. Harry pondered smart-assed comments and decided to forgo the silly idea. He did what seemed natural, and took the throbbing member into his mouth and began to suck. Using his tongue and lips, he followed Severus’ moans to guide his actions, until he was rewarded by Severus’ eager hips moving upward to gain more purchase. Harry took this opportunity to place his hands beneath Snape’s ass, cupping and squeezing the cheeks as they came down again, causing the man to breathe and moan harder than ever. Harry knew that he was too proud to allow himself to say anything, but as Harry gave a particular vicious suck, Severus came and a cry came out of his throat nonetheless. Harry swallowed and immediately snaked his way back up, resting himself on Snape’s chest.

 

“Thank you,” Severus breathed, shaking sweaty hair back from his face. “You were amazing,” he whispered.

 

Harry blushed again. “You, too,” he said. “I – I never knew that was your first time on the job, as it were.” His smile was wide.

 

Now Severus blushed, too. “It has been my first time in… in every way,” he said, looking away from Harry, although the arms still held him close.

 

Harry felt something stir in his chest, a powerful surge of emotion. “I’m glad it was me,” he whispered. “And it was obviously my first for everything, too.”

 

“I’m glad, too,” Severus whispered back. He turned Harry’s face toward his, pressed a kiss on each temple, and then kissed his mouth again. “You taste young.”

 

Harry kissed him back. “You taste… like me,” he replied, turning red again.

 

Severus quirked a smile. “So, good then,” he teased.

 

“Yeah. Definitely good,” Harry teased back. “Like you.”

 

Severus glanced at the clock on the wall, sighed, and sat up, gently dislodging Harry from his chest. He re-buttoned himself and rearranged his robes to perfection. “I must go,” he said. “Though I do not want to. People will wonder if we ‘talk’ too long.”

 

Harry sighed, too, and re-dressed himself similarly. They got off the table. Severus glanced at it, smiling wryly, and cast several heavy cleaning spells. “Now you’ll have something special to think about every time you eat here,” he said sardonically.

 

Harry laughed and slipped his arms around Severus’ waist from behind. “Good,” he said, remembering his uneaten toast that morning. He turned Snape around and kissed his throat. Severus kissed the top of Harry’s head, then turned his face up to his and kissed his mouth again.

 

“Same time, tomorrow,” he said.

 

“You better. I haven’t even punished you yet.” Harry’s eyes twinkled.

 

Snape’s eyebrows flew upward archly. “Is that so? Well, we’ll just have to test your… punishing skills tomorrow then, mustn’t we? Let us hope they are better than your skill in Potions.”

 

Harry slapped Snape’s ass. “Git!” he said.

 

Severus laughed, pleased with himself. “Just kidding. Tomorrow, then.”

 

“Yes. Tomorrow.” Not wanting him to go at all, Harry reached up and pressed his lips to Snape’s again.

 

Severus reluctantly broke away after a bit, and turned to go. He stopped, though, and turned back to look up at Fawkes. The trouble was, the phoenix was gone. He glanced at Harry, who hadn’t seen, and decided not to say anything about the distinctly nervous feeling that was beginning to settle in his midsection. “Good night,” he said.

 

He left the house and Disapparated to Hogsmeade, where he walked the short distance to his private quarters at Hogwarts. Removing his outer cloak, he moved to the sideboard and poured himself a small shot of firewhiskey, and took himself to sit down in his favourite armchair in front of the fireplace. Trouble was, someone else was already sitting there.


	5. Dumbledore and Ron

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: don’t own anything you recognize

 

Chapter 5: Dumbledore and Ron

 

Snape gasped. “Dumbledore!”

 

The older man was looking calm, his long fingers steepled thoughtfully in front of him. “Severus. Forgive me for barging in like this.”

 

At a loss, Severus floundered, “Of – of course, Headmaster. You are always welcome here.”

 

Dumbledore smiled and inclined his head, acknowledging this. “Please sit down.”

 

Snape sat down in the other chair, wishing very much that there was more firewhiskey in the glass tumbler he held. He had a feeling he would soon be needing it. “Er – what brings you here, Dumbledore?”

 

Dumbledore’s eyes were very light and blue and piercing in the firelight, and he said, simply, “Severus. I’ve come to talk to you about Harry.”

 

Snape’s world was rapidly turning over. He was very much aware that his pulse was racing, that his clothes were still damp with sweat, that he could still feel Harry’s lips on his own, his hands on his body. “What is it?” he managed.

 

“Relax, Severus. I am not angry. Surprised, perhaps, but not angry. No,” Dumbledore went on, staring thoughtfully into the fire, “but I thought we should talk about it.”

 

“Fawkes.” Severus said, by way of asking for an explanation.

 

“Of course,” Dumbledore replied. “He tells me everything.” He leaned forward. “Is this something you truly want, Severus?”

 

Severus felt like he was drowning. Why did he have to answer questions about this, when he was so unsure of everything himself? “I – I think so, sir,” he said, looking at his glass.

 

“You have wanted it for some time?”

 

“I did not realize it,” Severus said stiffly. “But yes. I believe so.”

 

“You have been aware of your sexual preferences.”

 

Snape could not believe that this topic had come up for discussion between himself and the Headmaster. “Yes.”

 

“Were you also aware of Harry’s?”

 

“No. Not until yesterday.” Remembering yesterday, the conversation, and what had followed, Severus felt himself blush again, traitorously.

 

Dumbledore leaned back, looking satisfied. “How did what occurred yesterday come about? Fawkes fell asleep,” he added fondly, “and you must have left the room.”

 

Still hot in the face, “Yes. I – I don’t quite know, sir. It just seemed to happen.”

 

“You do not recall who – ah – made the first move?”

 

Severus thought, and a sudden memory came to him:

 

[“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sir’?” he asked in a soft voice.  
“Oh! I – ”  
“Quietly, now, Harry,” Severus said, and Harry could hear the laughter in his voice. “This is the way I punish pupils for calling me by the wrong title or name.” His face was nearer yet. Harry bit his lip and nodded, ever so slightly. Severus brought his face even closer, and gently placed his lips against Harry’s.]

 

“I did,” Severus said, so quietly that Dumbledore could hardly hear it. He looked away, face burning with shame. He had, after all, been the one to do it. There was no question in his mind that the whole thing would not have happened if he had not initiated it. Harry would never have simply kissed his professor. But he responded, a voice in his head said. He said he didn’t regret it. He said he wanted it to go on.

 

“And I assume it must have gone over well, as it continued this evening,” Dumbledore said, carefully looking at the ceiling. When Severus did not answer, he added gently, “Harry must have responded favourably. It was he, after all, who insisted that it continue tonight, was it not?”

 

Cautiously, Severus allowed himself to feel something akin to relief. “Yes,” he said, sounding uncertain. “He – he said he did not regret – any of it. That he wanted it to go on as it began.”

 

Dumbledore smiled. “You know that I do not care about people’s preferences, Severus,” he said. “Harry is an adult. A young one, yes, but the things he has had to deal with his entire life have forced him to grow up prematurely. I am glad for his sake if he has found someone who can make him happy and protect him, at least a little. And I am also glad for your sake, Severus. I know that you have been lonely. I know what doubts you carry about yourself. All I can say is that you both have remarkable taste.”

 

While Severus was still pondering this rather incredulously, Dumbledore went on. “I am also very much aware that, for the remaining year, he is still your student. Therefore, while I am perfectly content with your relationship, I must insist on secrecy between the two of you. I have no doubt,” he said dryly and emphatically, “that Harry’s friends will find out. This is simply unavoidable. The Granger girl is far more intelligent that most of us even realize, and Harry is simply too close to Ron for him not to guess. They are loyal to a fault, and will not give away your secret. I will also be speaking with them, once they know. I know that you will not tell anyone. You would not have told me, but been horribly aware that I knew. That is why I brought it up, and soon, so that your worry will not be a concern between you and Harry.”

 

Relief washed over Severus in an almost blinding wave. “Sir? Should I tell Harry that he can tell them?”

 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “I was going to speak to him myself, but why don’t you, Severus? It will save me a trip, at least.” Before Snape could collect himself and respond, blushing furiously all the while, Dumbledore spoke again. “And now, I think, I will let you get on with your evening. Thank you for your time, and again, I beg your forgiveness for the intrusion.”

 

He rose, and so did Snape, following Dumbledore to the door. He hesitated, not knowing how to say this. Dumbledore turned to face him, light still glimmering in the depths of his ancient blue eyes. All he could manage was, “Thank you.” His voice, curse it, was trembling slightly.

 

Dumbledore put a hand on Snape’s shoulder, willing some of his own confidence in the man to sink in. He saw the vulnerability in the younger man’s deep eyes, which he had not seen since all those years before, when he had helped Severus come back to the side of the Light. “I have always had complete confidence and trust in you, Severus,” he said, very quietly. “I have faith in the decisions you make. Be happy.” He turned to go, allowing Severus to be alone in peace, and caught a glimpse, as the door was closing, of a pale hand coming up to Severus’ face. The door closed, and Dumbledore was gone.

* * *

Harry, feeling even more suffused with happiness than he had the night before, went dancing upstairs. Are you skipping? The voice in his head asked incredulously. Well, that just PROVES that you’re a total fairy! Harry was too happy to even care. He went into his room.

 

Ron was already there, and in one second, had taken stock of Harry’s flushed face and silly grin. A look of confusion crossed his face. “What’s up, mate?” he asked.

 

“Nothing much.” Harry bounced onto his bed, still grinning foolishly. He realized that Ron was staring at him.

 

“Good meeting with Snape, was it?” he said dryly. To his considerable surprise, Harry’s face got redder, but he didn’t say anything, just looked toward the window. Ron pressed on. “Harry.You’re grinning like a fool.”

 

“Mmm.” Harry said, trying to think of some way of putting this off. Ron was bound to find out, Severus was right. He decided on just letting Ron stumble into it. Just then, Hermione knocked lightly, then came in without waiting for a response.

 

“Oh, you’re both here,” she said, sounding surprised. “Hello, Harry. How was your meeting with Snape?”

 

Harry shrugged, still smiling. “Fine.”

 

“He came bouncing in here, and he’s been grinning like an idiot the whole time, and he won’t say anything,” Ron complained.

 

Hermione made a thoughtful-sounding noise, and went to sit on Ron’s bed beside him. “Just fine?” she directed this at Harry.

 

Harry was still smiling. “Well… yeah. Quite fine.”

 

“Well, that’s good,” she said cautiously, looking quickly at Ron. “So, you’re getting over your differences, are you?”

 

Harry could have burst out laughing. He realized that there was no possible way, with both of them questioning him, that he could hide it. Besides, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. They were his best friends. He was happy. Why not tell them? “You could say that,” he said, his voice full of laughter.

 

Hermione’s brow immediately knitted itself up, and she looked quizzically at Ron again.

 

“See what I mean?” he said, shrugging. “I dunno.”

 

She looked back at Harry. “Harry, what’s going on?”

 

“What do you think’s going on?” he crossed his arms and legs and waited. Hedwig came fluttering down from her roost on top of the old wardrobe and perched on his knee. He stroked her, waiting for his friends to guess the truth. He wondered if they would be able to comprehend it. Suddenly, this was very fun. He was about to out himself and tell a big secret all at once.

 

Hermione gave him a deep, probing look, almost sharp. “I’m not sure what to think. Is there something you want to tell us, Harry?”

 

She knows, he thought. “Well, sure,” he said casually, still petting Hedwig. “I guess I should have told you guys before, but I dunno… the timing never seemed right, and I’m always bothering you guys with stuff.”

 

“That’s not your fault, you’re Harry Potter, you git,” said Ron. “You always have stuff going on, you can’t help that.”

 

Harry felt a surge of affection for his long-time friend. “I know I can’t, mate. But this is a bit different.”

 

Ron snorted. “Different than being the only one can defeat Volde – ”

 

“Shh!” Hermione interrupted him. “Tell us, Harry.”

 

“Well,” said Harry, thinking of the way Severus had said it the night before, “I – well – I like men.”

 

There was a small silence. Harry’s eyes met Hermione’s. “I knew it,” she said softly. “Well, I wondered,” she amended.

 

Harry looked round at Ron. Ron’s eyes were wide, and his mouth was gaping a bit. Harry laughed. Hermione scowled and dug Ron in the ribs with her elbow. “Harry, mate,” he said, sounding dazed, “why didn’t you tell us before?”

 

Relief surged through Harry. “I always meant to, I just, well, like I said, I always have so much stuff going on. Besides,” he added slyly, “I thought you guys might like to have a chance to focus on yourselves a bit more.”

 

They both looked confused. “What do you mean, mate?” Ron asked, sounding as confused as he looked. Hermione looked similarly non-plussed.

 

“On each other, I should say,” Harry amended, and rewarded by both of them looking immediately very embarrassed. They both tried to talk at once.

 

“Oh, Harry – ”

 

“Mate, I – ”

 

“Never mind,” he interrupted them, grinning at their blushes, “you two can sort that out without me around to pester you. In the mean time, I reckon I’ll go to bed.”

 

“Wait, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed. “You can’t do that! What about your meeting? Why are you so happy about it?”

 

This got Ron’s attention, too, and his blush faded a bit. “Yeah, Harry, you still haven’t answered our questions.” Suddenly he gasped, putting two and two together. “Wait a minute!”

 

Hermione got it, too. “Not you and Snape!” she gasped. She turned to look at Ron, but he was gaping at Harry, waiting for an answer.

 

Harry continued stroking Hedwig composedly. “Yep. That’s it. That must be a record, you figuring something out before Hermione!”

 

Ron flushed again, though he knew Harry was just teasing. “But – Harry, you aren’t – you can’t be serious! Snape?! I mean, okay, you like men, fine, but of all people – !”

 

Hermione looked at Harry, too, looking slightly worried. “Tell us more, Harry.”

 

“Well,” Harry said, and paused. “I guess Dumbledore said we had to have meetings, to get over our differences, for the sake of the war, basically. He also said that the two of us are like sons to him, and that he knows we’ll need each other’s help to win against Voldemort. He said he was leaving Fawkes to watch over our meetings, to make sure we didn’t hurt each other. So, we started talking right away, and we talked about my dad, and I… apologized about the Pensieve thing, and stuff…”

 

“Oh, good,” said Hermione. “I’m so glad you guys finally talked about that.”

 

“Yeah, me, too,” said Harry. “I’d actually almost forgotten about it, and then he brought it up – not in a nasty way – ” he added, seeing the look on Ron’s face. “Well, I realized that I’d really hurt him, and we just talked about everything, and agreed to call each other by our first names. And then suddenly I realized I was feeling kind of nervous, like it was a date or something. See, Dumbledore made us look each other in the eyes, to see each other as humans, not as enemies, before he left, so we did that again, and…” Harry trailed off.

Hermione was still watching him intently. “And all that Occlumency you two’ve done together,” she said. “That must mean that you could kind of read each other’s thoughts when you did that.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “He’d said something about being a greasy old bat, and I said he wasn’t old, and then I kind of realized that I actually thought he wasn’t ugly, either. And, well, when I looked in his eyes, I – um…”

 

“Was he attracted to you?” Ron asked, still sounded dumbstruck, and perhaps a bit revolted. Hermione glared at him for being so blunt.

 

“Yes,” Harry answered simply. “And then, just as he was leaving, I accidentally called him ‘sir’ again, when I’d said I wouldn’t, outside of class, and when we got into the hallway, he grabbed me and pushed me against a wall, and said he had to punish me for calling him sir.”

 

“He attacked you?” Ron’s voice was loud.

 

“No!” Harry said, his smile slipping for a second. Then it returned, mischievously. “He kissed me.”

 

Hermione gasped again, her hands flying up to her face. “He did?!”

 

Harry nodded, feeling his face becoming dreamy.

 

“Did you kiss him back?” Ron asked bluntly.

 

Harry nodded again.

 

“And – and – how… was it?” asked Hermione faintly.

 

Harry closed his eyes, smiling. “Beautiful.”

 

“Is that all that happened?” Ron could be very direct. Harry opened his eyes. He felt the blush returning, and mumbled something. “What was that?” Ron asked, eyes narrowing at Harry.

 

“I said, ‘not really’,” Harry mumbled, slightly louder. Hedwig decided she’d had enough of the visit and flew back up to her perch on the wardrobe, leaving Harry feeling slightly abandoned.

 

“Do I want to know?” Ron mumbled, turning red himself.

 

“Probably not.” Harry’s voice was tight.

 

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice drew his eyes back to her. “Was it – was it – I mean, how was it?” She was blushing herself, and definitely avoiding looking at Ron this time.

 

Harry smiled at her, and said again, “Beautiful.”

 

“But – ” Ron interjected, “you were so miserable last night when you came to bed, and today, you just moped around all day. What happened after?”

 

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly. “I just – I just panicked, I guess. I figured he would go home and realize how stupid it had been, and things would be horribly awkward and I would feel like such a fool. I mean, come on, could either have you predicted how Snape would be in that situation?”

 

“No,” said Ron flatly, “but then, I can’t imagine Snape kissing anyone, either.” He didn’t add, Or anyone kissing Snape, for that matter.

 

“So,” Hermione wedged herself back into the fray, “How were things tonight, when he got here?”

 

Harry shook his head, smiling at himself. “They were fine. A little bit awkward at the beginning, but he asked me if I was regretting it, and I said no, and he said he wasn’t, either, and then it was fine.” Heat crept up his neck and face again, remembering their activities on the table. “More than fine.”

 

“What happened tonight?” Ron blurted out, ignoring Hermione’s “Ron!”

 

Harry met Ron’s eyes directly. “We sucked each other off, alright?”

 

Ron gasped. “You did? I mean,” he added hastily, shooting a look at Hermione’s reddened face, “it’s just that – wow, Harry, you must really like him!”

 

Harry smiled again. “I think I have for a long time,” he said, admitting it.

 

“And he must have, too,” said Hermione. Still blushing and not looking at Ron, she said, “Well, I’m happy if you’re happy, Harry. It’s just hard to believe, Snape, of all people!”

 

“You should see his hair now,” said Harry, happy that the critical moment had passed. “I told him yesterday that he was using too much gel, and now it doesn’t look greasy anymore.”

 

“Well, that’s something,” said Ron, fighting the urge to sound sarcastic.

 

“Harry,” asked Hermione tentatively, “was that – was that your first time, with anyone?”

 

Harry laughed. “Yep. It was my first kiss, besides Cho’s, never mind anything else. His, too.”

 

“Snape’s?” she said, sounding disbelieving. “His first time, ever?”

 

“Yes. Okay, mate, are you going to hurl over there, or are you going to be okay?” Harry shot at Ron, whose eyes were round.

 

“I… I’m fine. Sorry, Harry,” Ron said, not looking at Hermione.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“But, Harry,” Hermione’s voice sounded worried now. “Was Fawkes there tonight?”

 

Harry’s heart plummeted like a stone. “Er – yes, I suppose he was,” he said. “Oh, Merlin, I totally forgot about him.”

 

“So that must mean that Dumbledore knows,” said Ron.

 

“I don’t even want to think about it,” said Harry flatly. “But I really do want to go to sleep. And like I said, you two should go and… talk, or something. Chess, indeed!” This he directed at Ron, whose ears and neck were matching his hair now. “Go and snog already.”

 

Stammering and blushing and not looking at one another, Harry laughed out loud. “Honestly, you two! Do I have to do everything here? Ron, Hermione likes you. Hermione, Ron likes you. There. Anyone have any objections to what I just said?”

 

Silence. Then Ron peeked out from under his fringe at Hermione. “Do you really like me?” he managed to get out.

 

Eyes round, Hermione seemed unable to speak, so she just nodded. “Do you really like me?” she squeaked.

 

Ron nodded, too. In almost slow-motion, their heads moved together, until they were only a few inches apart. There they stopped. Then Hermione smiled reassuringly, put her hand on Ron’s knee, leaned forward the last few inches and touched her lips to his. Ron’s eyes went wider then ever, while hers closed, then he closed his eyes, too, and kissed back. After a few moments, Harry cleared his throat. They jumped apart, looking extremely embarrassed.

 

“Still here,” he said dryly. “Hence my wanting you two to leave the room.” Then, seeing that they seemed incapable of speech, he said, “Come on, nothing to be embarrassed about. I just told you guys that I’m gay and gave and received my first blow job tonight. Get over yourselves!” He laughed, breaking their tension.

 

Ron blushed more at this than at anything else and flung his pillow at Harry’s head. Harry threw it back. “Fine, we’ll go!” Ron said, and got up, pulling Hermione up by her hand. “Come on,” he told her, and his face was stamped with tenderness. They moved to the door, and Harry watched them, smiling furtively.

 

At the door, Hermione stopped and turned back. Suddenly, she darted over and threw her arms around Harry. “Thank you!” she whispered in his ear. He hugged her back, hard. “And Harry, I’m so glad, for you!”

 

“I am, too,” he whispered back. “Thanks for being such a great friend. Now go and get yourself snogged! That’s an order!”

 

She giggled and disentangled herself. “Okay. Good night!” She quickly went to Ron, who was waiting out in the hallway, closing the door behind her.

 

Harry got undressed and went to sleep, the thought of Dumbledore only a nagging shadow behind his dreamy thoughts of Severus.


	6. Night

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize

 

Chapter 6: Night

 

At eight o’clock the next evening, Harry was already waiting for Severus in the kitchen. Practically drumming his fingers on the table (which made him smile) from impatience. Finally, he heard the turn open, the footsteps, and the door opening. There he was. Harry couldn’t help but grin, and was pleased to see the other man return a rare smile. “Hello,” said Severus.

 

Harry got up from the table and walked over, very slowly and deliberately, aware that Severus was watching his progress intently. He slid his hands up Severus’ chest to rest on his shoulders, leaned up and very gently laid his mouth against the other’s. Severus responded instantly, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue into Harry’s mouth. When it finally ended, they were both gasping for air, and Harry finally said, “Hello, Severus.”

 

“That was quite the hello,” said Severus, with another rare smile. He looked up at the cabinet where Fawkes had sat the previous two evenings. It was empty. He smiled again, to himself. “Let’s sit down for a bit, Harry,” he said, taking Harry’s hand and leading him across the room. “I just wanted to talk for a bit.”

 

“Alright,” said Harry amiably. He gave Severus a sweet look that plainly said that anything Severus wanted to do was fine by him.

 

“Harry,” said Severus. “I just wanted to put your mind at rest – I don’t know if you realized, but Dumbledore knows about this. Us.”

 

Harry felt like he had just been plunged into cold water. “He – he does?” he gasped.

 

Severus wanted to hug him. “Yes, but it’s okay, Harry. He doesn’t mind.”

 

“You’ve talked to him?”

 

Severus smiled wryly. “I had to. He was in my apartment when I got back to Hogwarts last night.”

 

Harry reached across the table and intertwined his fingers with Snape’s. “What did he say?”

 

“Oh, several things. But he said that he’s happy for us. He asked how it came about. He says we’ll have to be completely discreet at school, and that no one can know about us, except for – ”

 

“Wait,” Harry broke it, sounding a bit desperate. “I, er – Ron and Hermione – ”

 

“Yes, Ron and Hermione,” Severus finished, with a smile. Harry looked confused, so he continued. “That’s what I was going to say. Dumbledore says it’s alright if they know – he completely expects them to find out – though it seems that, perhaps, they already have?”

 

Harry grinned. “I couldn’t help it, Severus. Hermione will get anything out of anyone.”

 

“As Dumbledore expected,” Snape said dryly. “It’s alright, though. I didn’t want you to worry. And Fawkes, it seems, won’t be coming anymore.”

 

Harry looked up at the cabinet, then turned back to Severus with a rather different expression on his face. “Well, that’s good, then,” he said, smirking, “since two people coming in one room is probably enough.”

 

“Goodness, Potter, what language,” Severus said, his dark eyes flashing in amusement.

 

Harry launched himself over the table, wedging himself between Snape and the table, on the other man’s lap. He planted his mouth on Snape’s neck and proceeded to create a large, evil-looking hickey there. Severus giggled, most uncharacteristically. It tickled. “Potter!” he said, fully aware of his choice of name, “Stop that!”

 

“Stop calling me Potter!” Harry buried his face into Severus’ neck and left several further hickeys. His hands slid beneath the inky fabric of Severus’ robes, to fondle his nipples through the tight material of his shirt.

 

“You’re being punished,” Harry said, his voice muffled. Suddenly he drew back and looked up at Severus. “We don’t have to stay here,” he said.

 

“What? What do you mean?”

 

“We could go somewhere more comfortable,” Harry said. “The drawing room? Come on.” He unwedged himself and pulled Snape up by the hand. Snape followed him, unresisting.

 

“What about the other people who live here?” Severus asked uncertainly. Being caught snogging Harry Potter – or worse – by Molly Weasley was not high on his list of priorities.

 

“It’s only Ron, Ginny and Hermione right now,” Harry said. “Remus is on a mission, the twins are at their flat above their shop, and Mr. & Mrs. Weasley are visiting relatives in Wiltshire until the weekend. No one else is around.” Catching the look in Severus’ eye, he added, “Don’t worry, I warned them. They know not to come downstairs.”

 

Severus was a little embarrassed by this, though he didn’t say anything. Harry led him upstairs to said drawing room. It was a nice room, full of antique furniture, velvet couches and the like. Harry took him right over to the burgundy couch on the far side. “Sit,” he directed playfully. Severus sat back, one arm draped in casual elegance over the back of the sofa. Harry devoured him with his eyes for a moment, then straddled Severus’ lap once more. He put both hands on Severus’ face and drew it to his for a long, melting kiss. As it went on, Severus felt himself growing more and more aroused. It didn’t help that Harry’s erection, noticeable through the many layers of clothing separating them, was pressing into his lap, where it could probably feels his own already.

 

Severus slid his hands up the back of the young man’s shirt, then pulled it right off. Harry responded eagerly, fumbling with the catches of Severus’ cloak and shirt. Finally, everything was off from the waist up, and Harry went wild, like a child in a candy shop. He was kissing and sucking on Severus’ nipples, his collar bone, his neck, everywhere he could reach from his position. Severus responded just as eagerly, feeling like a schoolboy again. He moaned his pleasure into Harry’s mouth and pressed kisses onto his shoulders, neck, his face, his chest, as their hands explored each other’s torsos.

 

“Severus,” murmured Harry into Snape’s ear like a prayer, “I want you.” He slid his tongue into said ear and Severus shivered.

 

“You can have me,” he breathed back, revelling in the scent of Harry’s hair.

 

Harry’s breath caught. “How can I have you?” he asked softly.

 

“Any way you want,” Severus whispered. “Do you want… to be inside me?”

 

Harry’s breathing grew ragged. “Yes, but… are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

Severus pulled Harry’s face back so that he could see it clearly. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never been more happy that this has happened between us, Harry. I want to give myself to you. I… never thought I would feel this way about someone, and I’m glad that I finally do.” He kissed Harry with so much tenderness, Harry almost could have forgotten what they were in the middle of.

 

“I’m glad, too,” Harry said softly. He stood up and so did Severus, and they each began to take off their pants, never taking their eyes off each other. The last layers were cast aside, and Harry drew in his breath. Severus was beautiful. There was no other word for it. It was amazing, that so many years had passed with no one ever having seen this beautiful person before. Harry could hardly believe he was the lucky one to be the first. He caught Severus staring just as hungrily at his own naked form. Their erections pointed straight out at one another. Harry stepped forward, until the tip of his touched the tip of Severus’. Now it was he who drew in his breath suddenly. They began to rub against each other again.

 

But Severus stopped. Without a word, he gave Harry a meaningful look, and deliberately turned around lay down on the couch, his back to Harry. Harry lay down beside him, spooning him, and trailed kisses down his spine. Severus shivered again. Harry began to caress the soft skin of Severus’ firm ass, delighting in being allowed to see it at last. “I’ll try not to hurt you,” he whispered, and very slowly, very gently slid himself into the man. He heard a sharp intake of breath. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

 

“Yes,” Severus whispered back. “Go – go on.” Harry paused doubtfully, and, as though sensing it, Severus added, “I want to feel you inside me. Please.”

 

The ‘please’ nearly finished Harry right there. He began to move. Merlin, it was good. It was sinfully good. He reached around his lover and took his erection in his hand. Severus was still rock hard, and thrust gratefully against Harry’s grasp. They were moving together, Harry pushing in harder and deeper with each thrust. “Oh, Sev – I can’t – I’m going to come – ” he gasped.

 

“Then come,” came Snape’s voice, rasping from the pleasure.

 

Harry did what he was told, come shooting from himself, deep into the man he held. At the same time, Severus’ back arched and he came into Harry’s hand and the back of the couch. For a few minutes, they just lay there, panting, recovering, Harry still inside Severus. Then Severus shifted, pulling himself away from Harry so that he could turn around to face him. He kissed Harry very slowly and very gently. “Thank you,” he whispered.

 

“No, thank you,” Harry corrected, fingers stroking the soft, soft skin of Severus’ hip.

 

“No, I mean… thank you for all of this. I can’t tell you what it means to me, that you don’t hate me anymore, that anyone could willing be this intimate with me.”

 

Harry could hardly believe his ears. “Severus, you’re beautiful. I still can’t believe I got to be your first. The world does not know what they’re missing. Not that I want them to! But I’m every bit as glad that you don’t hate me anymore, either. I think I’ve actually had feelings for you for a long time already.”

 

“Really, Harry?” Severus asked, needing to believe it. Harry nodded. “I have, too. It took me until Dumbledore was questioning me about everything for me to realize it. But I have.”

 

“I’m so glad we’ve found each other at last,” Harry whispered, and snuggled even closer to Severus, laying his head on Severus’ chest.

 

Severus was filled with wonder, his arms around the beautiful young man, chin resting lightly on his head. From the sounds of Harry’s breathing, he was going to fall asleep there. He summoned a velvety blanket from another couch using wandless magic, and placed several Sealing charms on the drawing room door, for he was certainly not interested in leaving at this point.

 

Harry was not asleep, but he felt the blanket drift down onto them and smiled into Severus’ chest, knowing the implications. He felt Severus give a soft sigh and settle more fully into the sofa and himself, clearing planning to fall asleep there. Harry pressed a kiss to his lover’s chest, and was rewarded with a kiss on the top of his head. They fell asleep.

* * *

In the morning, Ron woke up, the dawn light shining into his eyes. When he had fallen asleep, Harry had not been in the room. Which was fine with him, since Hermione had been there for quite awhile. Ron looked over, and was moderately shocked to see the other bed still empty. The implications of this filled his mind’s blanks immediately, and he decided that he did not want to deal with this alone. He got up, dressed, and went to find Hermione.

 

The door to the room she shared with Ginny was still closed. Ron opened it as quietly as possible and crept over to his girlfriend’s bed. Both of them were still asleep. Wanting very much not to wake his girlfriend in her bed with his sister watching, he very gently touched Hermione’s face and put his hand over her mouth to keep her from making a sound that would wake Ginny. Her eyes opened right away, round and questioning, and Ron beckoned to her to get up and come with him. She nodded, grabbed a dressing gown, and left the room with him.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, eyes round, as soon as they were out in the hallway.

 

“Harry didn’t come up to bed last night.” Ron said this, then waited for her reaction.

 

Hermione’s eyes grew even rounder. “I wonder where he is!”

 

“Well, I think we know who he’s with,” said Ron pointedly.

 

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh, my,” she said. “That was quick!”

 

“I’m a little paranoid of going anywhere in the house, lest I stumble in on them,” Ron said grimly. “Come with me?”

 

She nodded, said “Okay,” and went with him. They didn’t have to search long. The doors to the drawing room were magically sealed. They exchanged a glance, and Ron nodded. Hermione whispered, “Alohomora!” and the door made a soft clicking sound. She turned the knob and they peeked into the room. What they saw there made them both feel faint. There were two people, both naked (at least from the waist up; the blanket was covering the rest of them) lying entwined in each other’s bodies on the velvet couch on the far side. Their arms were wrapped about one another. And if the sight of the back of Harry’s head (black hair extra rumpled) wasn’t enough to convince them, there was also Severus Snape’s face, looking utterly serene in sleep, resting just above it. Hermione quickly closed the door.

 

“Well, at least one of them looks pretty happy,” she said, sounding dubious.

 

Ron nodded, looking very serious. “I guess I’ll just have to accept it. If Snape makes Harry happy, then fine. I just hope he doesn’t treat him like he always has in class, that’s all.”

 

Hermione nodded, too. “I’m glad you see it that way,” she murmured, giving him a light kiss. “C’mon, let’s go eat breakfast.”

 

As they were eating, they heard two pairs of footsteps descending the stairs. The door opened, and Harry peeked around it. “Oh, hi – er – just eating breakfast, are you?”

 

“You’re not disturbing us,” Hermione said quickly. “Come in.”

 

“And bring your ‘friend’ with you,” Ron added, in a very Malfoy-esque drawl.

 

Harry blushed to the roots of his hair, and turned to consult with Snape, who must have been behind him. After a moment, they both entered the room, Snape looking distinctly wrong-footed and somewhat uncomfortable. Harry had Snape by the hand and was pulling him into the room, while the older man followed reluctantly.

 

“Good morning,” Hermione said in a tone of studied unconcern, with a slight smile.

 

“Hello,” said Ron, wisely deciding to leave off the “Professor”.

 

Snape nodded stiffly. “Granger. Weasley.”

 

Harry looked relieved, and visibly squeezed Snape’s hand. They sat down.

 

Ron turned to Hermione. “So, what were you saying about Ancient Runes?”

 

She hesitated, then said, “Well, studying them has been really important, in terms of learning about all the Goblin Rebellions and stuff, and…”

 

As she continued, a wave of relief washed over Severus, and he shot Harry a grateful look. His friends had decided to be casual about it for Harry’s sake, and everything was decidedly less awkward this way. Harry grinned back, shrugging. What could he say. They were good friends. He kicked Hermione under the table by way of showing his thanks. Without skipping a beat, she shot him a quick grin, eyebrows raised, and kept talking to Ron. Severus did not miss the look or the grin, but decided to say nothing.

 

Who knew, perhaps they would become his friends, too. Merlin knew (and Dumbledore) that he needed some. Harry was sitting very close beside him, close enough that his friends would not see when he put his arm around Harry’s waist and squeezed very gently.

 

It had only been three days, but he thought that he was in love.


	7. Back to Hogwarts

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Chapter 7: Back to Hogwarts

 

The next few weeks were spent in wonder for both Harry and Severus. Although Mr. & Mrs. Weasley did not know about the relationship, they assumed that Severus’ constant presence in the evenings were the ongoing meetings. Harry’s mood was very content, and although Molly wondered at this, she said nothing. Harry slept in his own bed at nights, although the room was vacated during “meeting” times. They had a routine: Severus would come down to the kitchen to meet Harry, then they would wait until the coast was clear and Apparate upstairs to the room. They spent much of their time talking. Only a couple of times had they fallen asleep in each other’s arms, to be gently woken by Ron, telling Severus the time, and tactfully leaving to allow the goodbye’s to be said.

 

It became a tacit understanding that Ron and Hermione did not refer to Severus as anything at all, not Snape, not Professor, not sir. They all knew that this would change once they were back at Hogwarts. Finally, one night at the end of August, Severus decided to bring it up.

 

This had been one of the nights where they had not talked, but made love instead, and now they lay on Harry’s narrow twin bed, wrapped in each other’s arms as closely as possible.

 

“Harry,” Severus murmured into Harry’s hair.

 

“Mmm,” Harry responded, his lips moving against Severus’ cheekbone.

 

“The day after tomorrow, school starts again.”

 

There was a pause. Then, “What are you saying?” Harry asked, not moving. Severus could feel tension growing in him.

 

“Relax, it’s okay. I just thought we should talk about it.”

 

“What do we need to talk about?”

 

“Us. How we keep this going.”

 

Harry was relieved. He was worried that Severus might be changing his mind, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort of keeping secrecy. He snuggled in even closer. “Can’t we just keep having our ‘meetings’?”

 

Severus considered. “I suppose. But it will become clear, I assume, that we no longer despise one another, and added to that, Dumbledore probably did not want people knowing about the meetings in the first place. And you’ve gotten too good at Potions now for us to consider calling them remedial Potions classes.”

 

Harry laughed, his breath warming Severus’ cheek. “It doesn’t have to become obvious that we don’t hate each other anymore. We could just pretend. And come on, I’m a seventh-year now; surely I’m allowed some freedom and privacy.”

 

“A pity Dumbledore didn’t make you Head Boy,” Severus said. “Then you’d have your own rooms.”

 

Harry gave a small shrug. “It’s alright. Ron and Hermione probably need them more, anyway. I didn’t want to be Head Boy. Dumbledore knows I have enough else to be thinking about this year.”

 

“The Dark Lord,” Severus said softly. “The war. The prophecy.”

 

“Yeah, and NEWT’s, and quidditch, and you,” Harry added. He hesitated. They hadn’t spoken about this since back in fifth year, during his initial Occlumency lessons. “Severus… I know I asked you this before, but why don’t you feel capable of calling Voldemort by his name?”

 

He felt Severus stiffen slightly. “I… I cannot,” he said. “I suppose it is a layer of respect which prevents feelings of familiarity, which is the last thing I want associated with him. My whole life changed when I came to myself and Dumbledore pulled me back to the right side… of everything. I never wish to associate myself with him again.” He paused, and added in a much softer voice, “Even as a spy.”

 

Harry pulled his face away, so that he could look into his lover’s face. “Are you still spying?” he asked directly.

 

Severus shook his head a bit. “Only when I must.”

 

“And how often must you?”

 

He shook his head again, pressing a kiss into Harry’s hair. “Harry. I cannot tell you. Any time is too much.”

 

“I would go with you, if I could,” said Harry, offering, and already knowing the offer would be turned down.

 

“Dumbledore would never let you,” said Severus with a smile. “I don’t think I would, either.”

 

“Why not?” Harry asked, not afraid of the answer. They both knew what fate had in store for him, that neither of them questioned his ability to defeat Voldemort. But he was curious.

 

“Because I love you,” whispered Severus. “I would prevent anything from happening to you, if I possibly could.”

 

Harry felt his heart swell so that he thought it would burst. “I love you, too,” he whispered back.

 

Severus used his one free arm to pull Harry’s face around so that their eyes could meet. “Do you really mean that?” he asked plainly.

 

“Yes!” Harry said fervently. “I’ve known that for a while already… I didn’t want to say until I thought you felt that way, too.”

 

“Really?” His deep, black eyes probed Harry’s with intensity. Harry opened his eyes and mind wide, to let the other read his heart freely. “Oh, Harry…”

 

“Shh,” Harry murmured, and placed his mouth on Severus’. They kissed for a long moment, and when they broke away, there was a sheen of tears over the dark eyes. “Shh,” Harry whispered again. “It’s okay. I love you.”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“You won’t. I know you won’t. I’m not afraid of our future,” Harry said firmly. “I’m excited about it. There’s nothing I want more than to pass my seventh year, win the war, and live happily ever after. With you.”

 

Severus searched Harry’s face wonderingly. “You may change your mind. You may get tired of me.”

 

“I believe in us,” said Harry simply. “I can’t simply ‘get tired’ of you. I’m in love with you, you git.”

 

Severus finally smiled, the tears still evident in his eyes. “Oh, Harry, I love you, too. Do you understand about not coming with me?”

 

Harry nodded. “Yes. I don’t like it, but I’ll accept it.”

 

“Thank you,” said Severus, relieved.

 

“Severus?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Stay with me tonight.”

 

There was a pause. “What about Ron?” Severus asked, knowing that Ron shared the room.

 

“What about Ron? He can go somewhere else.”

 

“Where? Hermione’s room, you mean?”

 

“Mm, not there. Ginny sleeps there, too. I don’t know. It’s a big house. He’ll manage. And he’ll understand.”

 

“Will he understand you not being around every evening at school this year?” Severus asked, frownly slightly.

 

“Of course he will. Besides, he’s Head Boy, plus he’s dating the Head Girl. They’ll be busy enough on their own. And Hermione’s taking something like five hundred NEWT’s this year, so she’ll be plenty busy. He’ll be relishing all the time he can get with her.” He paused again. “Severus.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Could I stay with you some nights, once we’re back at school?”

 

“Of course, if we’re very discreet.”

 

“I have an invisibility cloak,” Harry reminded him. “It’ll be fine.”

 

“Alright, then.”

 

“So, are you going to stay tonight?”

 

A pause. Then, “Yes,” Severus said, holding the precious young man close. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

 

Neither of them noticed that Ron never did come back.

* * *

Two days later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all standing in the King’s Cross station, alternately loading their stuff onto the school train, receiving advice from Mrs. Weasley, finding seats, and trying to get away. Mrs. Weasley pulled Harry aside at the last minute.

 

“Is everything alright these days, Harry?” she asked, holding him by the shoulders.

 

“What? Yes, everything,” he answered, a bit confused by her question.

 

“It’s just that you’ve been… different,” she said. “Perhaps a bit secretive?”

 

Harry smiled at her, for once not bothered by her interference. “It’s okay, Mrs. Weasley,” he assured her. “I do have a bit of a secret, but it’s nothing bad – just the opposite, actually, but for now, it has to stay a secret. Dumbledore’s wishes,” he added. “But I’m perfectly alright.”

 

“Alright, then, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley, sounding relieved. “Off you go, now.”

 

The others were already aboard. Harry found Ginny and sat down with her. Shortly, Neville and Dean joined them, and shortly after that, Seamus.

 

“Together again, boys!” Seamus exclaimed.

 

“One last year,” Harry agreed.

 

“What am I going to do without all you next year?” Ginny moaned, sitting very close to Neville.

 

And so it went.

 

The train arrived at Hogwarts right on time, and the school year began. During the Feast that evening, Harry looked over at the staff table at Severus, who was chatting with Professor McGonagall more animatedly than Harry had ever seen him. He was completely forgetting to throw resentful looks at Remus, sitting further down the table, having been re-appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher the year before. Seeming to feel Harry’s gaze, he turned suddenly and caught Harry’s eye, and gave him a quick, tender smile before turning back to McGonagall.

 

Harry resumed his conversation with Dean and Ron, but Hermione kicked him under the table, and mouthed, “I saw that.” Harry grinned and shrugged, blushing.

 

She leaned closer, speaking quietly. “You’re really happy with him, aren’t you, Harry?” 

 

Harry nodded, not able to suppress his smile.

 

“You’re positively glowing,” she told him knowingly. Then, in a more serious tone, she asked, “Do you love him?”

 

Harry glanced around at the others at their table. No one was listening. “Yes,” he answered simply.

 

“And he loves you?”

 

“Yes,” said Harry again, smiling. “He does.”

 

Hermione beamed. “That’s great, Harry, I really am happy for you.”

 

“So am I,” Harry said honestly. “I’ve never been so happy before. And I don’t think he has, either.” His eyes drifted back to Severus, who was still talking to McGonagall. “I know he hasn’t,” he said softly.

 

Hermione’s eyes had tears in them. “You deserve it, Harry,” she said.

 

“Yeah, well, what about you and Mr. Head Boy, there?” Harry asked, grinning.

 

Hermione blushed. “What about us?”

 

“Is it – are you two in love, too? Please say yes,” he added, “I already have a date for your wedding, you know,” he said cheekily.

 

Hermione laughed out loud. “Harry! I don’t think we’re thinking so far in advance yet, but yes, we’re in love.”

 

Harry picked up his knife and fork and began moving around the leftover carrots on his plate. “Well, all I can say is, good thing you have your own room,” he said with raised eyebrows.

 

Hermione threw a pea at him. “You prat,” she said. “And what about you, Mr. Sleepover?”

 

Harry grinned. “I don’t need my own room. He’s got one.”

 

They burst out laughing together, causing their friends to look at them.

 

“What’s so funny?” Ron asked, giving Hermione that special look that always made Harry roll his eyes, though he secretly understood it perfectly – having given it himself.

 

“Nothing, love,” she said, patting him reassuringly. “Go back to your silly quidditch talk.”

* * *

The first seventh-year Potions class took place on Tuesday. Monday night, after the Feast, Snape had called Harry aside, very softly. Both of them had lingered in the Great Hall until the last possible minute, and Severus very briefly pulled Harry into a quick hug and told him how to get into – and locate – his apartment. They parted quickly, before anyone could notice them, and went their separate ways, at least for the first hour of being back. Then Harry had slipped out of the Gryffindor common room and made his silent way down to the dungeons to Snape’s surprisingly well-appointed rooms. He had stayed until midnight, then gone back upstairs, where his dorm-mates were just getting ready for bed. He claimed a visit to Hagrid’s to explain his absence.

 

Now, he, Ron and Hermione entered the familiar dungeon and sat down in their usual seats. Snape came out of the back room, robes billowing as usual. “Good day,” he said curtly, giving the class a cursory glance, eyes lingering only momentarily on Harry.

 

“Good day, sir,” the class mumbled back. He rarely greeted them, so this was a surprise. Snape then launched into a short talk about what seventh-year Potions would entail, and talked about the NEWT as well. Today they would be starting by making Veritaserum, which the Ministry was currently low on.

 

“If you are successful, this will be of assistance,” Snape said. “If not…” and he looked straight at Harry, who fought the urge to smirk back, “you will have completely wasted several valuable ingredients. Everything you need is here – ” he indicated the store cupboard, “ – and here.” He indicated the blackboard, where the instructions appeared at a wave of his wand. “You have ninety minutes.”

 

Ron leaned over and muttered to Harry, “I can’t believe you fuck him. No offense.”

 

Harry smiled to himself. Ron was Ron, and always would be. “It’s clearly a matter of opinion,” he murmured back. “Just don’t go calling him a greasy old bat, d’you understand me?”

 

He felt Ron laugh, and answer, “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

 

Malfoy turned in his seat to shoot a smirk at Harry, who simply nodded and smiled back, thoroughly confusing the Slytherin. As the class progressed, Harry worked carefully at his potion, occasionally snagging Hermione’s attention to see how he was doing. It seemed to be going well. At one point, Snape came sweeping over to their corner, peered in his cauldron, and drawled, “Potter, wonders will never cease. This potion is actually acceptable. Malfoy. Come here and tell me how Potter’s potion differs from yours.”

 

Malfoy reluctantly got up and came over. Harry had noticed that he seemed quite diminished, somehow, as neither of his cronies had been accepted into seventh-year Potions. He looked into Harry’s cauldron. “Uh, Potter’s potion is clear, and mine’s kind of whitish, sir,” he said to Snape, not looking at Harry.

 

“That is correct, Mr. Malfoy. What have you omitted?”

 

Malfoy looked stunned. His potion was the wrong colour and not Potter’s? “Er – ” he said, stalling, looking at the blackboard.

 

“Tell him, Potter,” said Snape, giving Harry a secret, special look.

 

He scanned the board. “Did he forget the unicorn tail-hair?” he asked, hoping very much not give Severus a reason to have to fake anger. Or not fake it!

 

The relief was evident, at least to him, in Severus’ voice. “Yes, Mr. Potter, that is correct. Mr. Malfoy. If you add the tail-hair now, your potion can still be saved.” He swept back to the front of the room, but not before he’d given Harry’s shoulder a squeeze. Ron gave Harry a Look, and rolled his eyes, though smiling.

 

It looked like things had changed, indeed.


	8. Night, at last

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize

 

Chapter 8: Night, at last

 

That night, Harry lay still, still breathing hard, in Severus’ arms. The other man’s breathing was also still heavy against the back of Harry’s neck. They lay in contented silence for a few minutes. Then Harry felt Severus pull himself out of Harry and pull Harry around to face him. Harry immediately moved in close, closed his eyes and laid his mouth against his lover’s. “Thank you,” he murmured.

 

Severus laughed softly. “No, thank you,” he said. “That was incredible.”

 

“Well, it was your turn.” Harry reminded him. “And besides, it was pretty incredible for me, too. I like it both ways.”

 

“As do I,” Severus said. His long fingers moved gently against Harry’s bare back, tracing little patterns. “Thank you for not making me angry in Potions today.”

 

Harry laughed, looking Severus in the eye. “Would you have given me a detention if I’d gotten it wrong?”

 

“I’m still your teacher, Harry. I would have had to.”

 

“Especially,” Harry pointed out, “as you’ve hardly been fair to me during class in the past, and if you hadn’t given me a detention, everyone would have wondered.”

 

“Caught in my own web,” said Severus sardonically, though the soft movements of his hands belied the cynicism in his voice. “Forced to be nice to the Boy Who Lived at last. How would I ever live it down before the rest of the Gryffindors?”

 

Harry grinned. “Don’t call me that,” was all he said.

 

“What?” Severus’ eyebrows went up. “The Boy Who Lived?”

 

“Yeah, that. I hate that.”

 

“Why do you hate it?”

 

Harry scowled. “Don’t you ever think that, if you were me, you’d get tired of being Saint Potter, as that bastard Malfoy always calls me? Dumbledore’s Golden Boy? Saviour of the World? Any of that?”

 

Snape fell silent, considering. “I never thought about that,” he said at last. “What bothers you about all of it?”

 

“Everything!” said Harry. “All the unwanted attention, which is usually negative attention anyway – everyone always thinks I’m crazy, or showing off, or full of myself – don’t deny it, you thought that, too – and all the expectations. I still haven’t quite gotten used to the whole Prophecy thing yet. I have no idea if I can really defeat Voldemort or not, and if I do, then great, but then I’ll have more attention than ever. And if not,” he added, more softly, “then I guess I won’t have to worry about it.”

 

Severus was quiet, but drew Harry closer, close enough that their breaths mingled with each other’s. He had gotten used to Harry saying Voldemort’s name, though it still made him uncomfortable, so he didn’t comment. Besides, there were more important things to discuss. “But you know you’re not showing off, or looking for the attention. Your friends know. Dumbledore knows. I know. Isn’t that good enough?”

 

Harry pondered this. “Well, in the end, yes, but it’s still obnoxious.” He told Severus the story of Seamus, back in fifth year, when Seamus wouldn’t speak to him because he thought Harry was mad, or lying about Voldemort’s return.

 

Severus had never known this. “Is this why you’re always so full of anger?” he asked softly, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair.

 

A pause. “Am I always angry?” Harry wondered.

 

Severus nodded. “Not lately, but before this, all the time I’ve known you, you’ve positively radiated anger, all the time. I provoked it, I know. I’m sorry. But I get the sense that it’s always there anyway, not just directed at me.”

 

Harry thought about this. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “I am always about to explode. It must be the stress of everything, or something. I do blow up at Ron and Hermione a lot. Even Mrs. Weasley gets on my nerves, and she’s been like a second mother to me. Well,” he added bitterly, “more like a first mother, I guess, since I never really got to know my own.”

 

Severus felt a throb of pity. “And I was always bad-mouthing your father,” he said remorsefully. “When you didn’t even really know who he was.” His voice was sad.

 

“It’s alright now,” Harry said quickly. “I’ve had the chance to sort of see the man he was, and my mum, too. I think I know who they were and how that’s helped make me who I am now. But in the end, you have to be your own person, despite your upbringing, right?”

 

Severus was silent. “You’re right,” he said finally. “You’re completely right. Did you know that I’ve always, deep down, wished that I were not Severus Snape, just as you’ve wished not to be Harry Potter?”

 

“Why?” Harry asked, feeling that he could probably guess, but wanting to hear it.

 

He was too close to be able to see Severus’ face, but he felt him move restlessly beside him. “Come on, Harry. I have been vastly unpopular my entire life. In my own family, here at Hogwarts, within the Death Eaters, back here at Hogwarts. Most of the Order of the Phoenix don’t even like me. I don’t like myself much of the time. Did you know that until I found you this summer, I believed myself incapable of loving another person, in any respect? I certainly did not believe that I could actually fall in love with another person.”

 

“But you knew you were gay,” Harry said, somewhat timidly. He didn’t want to frighten Severus off by making him feel he’d said too much.

 

“I knew that I was attracted to men,” Severus corrected, “or would be, if I let myself think thoughts even remotely close to the subject of… sexuality.”

 

“Did you ever have a crush on a man?” Harry asked. He was so close to Severus that his lips were nearly touching his collarbone.

 

Severus was silent for a moment. Then, “No. I don’t believe so. Or at least, I don’t believe I realized it at the time. Now, though, I think that I perhaps did have a crush during school, but that it went away on its own and that I’ve only realized it now, much later.”

 

Hardly breathing, Harry asked, “Who was it?”

 

Silence. “I don’t want to say,” Severus said stiffly.

 

Harry closed the last possible inches of space between them, but pulled his face back. He placed soft kisses all over Severus’ face, his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, his neck, his eyelids, his mouth. Severus fell back onto his back and Harry followed, rolling on top of him. Their arms and legs were tangled. Harry kissed him again, tenderly, and said, “There’s nothing you could tell me that would ever make me think less of you, Severus. Please trust me.”

 

“I do trust you,” Severus said, his black eyes glimmering in the pale light of the stars coming in the window. “I just find it – embarrassing.”

 

“Come on,” Harry urged. “I won’t embarrass you with it.”

 

“I know you won’t,” Severus said. “Alright. It was Sirius. Only during school. After he went to Azkaban, it just went away on its own. And I was a Death Eater by then, I had no time or energy to spend thinking about such things. I was doing my best to hide the fact that I was gay from Lucius Malfoy, who certainly would have… taken advantage of the fact.”

 

Although Harry was still attempting to digest the first bit, he asked, “Lucius is gay?”

 

“I do not know,” Severus said bitterly. “But he was known for… being chosen by the Dark Lord to punish other men with rape at times. At the very least, he certainly would have made the information public knowledge.”

 

Harry kissed him. “What a bastard. No wonder Draco is the way he is. I understand about Sirius, he looked like a handsome man when he was younger. I understand all the animosity, at least on your side, too. Do you think Sirius knew?”

 

“No,” Severus said immediately. “I doubt that very much. I am fairly good at hiding my feelings, or so I prefer to believe.”

 

“You are,” Harry assured him. He paused, thinking over what Severus had said before. “I don’t think people dislike you as much as you seem to think. I mean, all the Slytherins like you – ”

“Only because, as you yourself have said, I favour them.”

 

“So what? And McGonagall, Dumbledore and Flitwick all seem to like you just fine. And Sprout, you and she always collaborate on potion ingredients and stuff. And now Ron and Hermione like you, too.” Harry watched Severus’ face, hoping he wasn’t pushing his luck. “And I like you,” he added cheekily, moving in a way that he hoped would prove his point.

 

Severus laughed suddenly, warmly. “You little – !” he said, rolling them both over so that he was now looming over Harry. “It’s a good thing,” he added, still laughing.

 

“Don’t I know it!” said Harry, doing the same thing, grinding his bare pelvis against the other man’s.

 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say doing that is definitely detention-worthy,” growled Severus, responding to the movement in his own way. His pale hands grasped Harry’s legs, raising them, allowing him entrance again. Harry’s erection rubbed along Severus’ belly, and the boy moaned softly.

 

“Severus,” he moaned, “you’re going to make the Boy Who Lived die of longing yet.” He pushed him closer to Severus, feeling the older man move more deeply inside him.

 

“No,” Severus murmured back, though his voice sounded raw from desire, “I’m going to make you really live.”

 

And after that, there was no need for more words.

 

In the grey light of early dawn, Harry got up, dressed, whispered a farewell and crept upstairs to Gryffindor Tower in his invisibility cloak and went to sleep for a few hours.


	9. Being a student again

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: These folks belong to Joanne K., still

 

Chapter 9: Being a student again

 

At breakfast the next day, Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. Ron kicked him under the table. “What?” he asked, trying not to sound irritable. It was hardly Ron’s fault that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

 

Ron smirked. “Sleepy, are we?”

 

“A bit,” Harry admitted.

 

“You also haven’t taken a bite in about five minutes,” Ron said.

 

It was Harry’s turn to smirk. “I had no idea I was so fascinating to watch,” he shot. He picked up his fork and took a bite of scrambled eggs. When he looked up again, Ron was still watching him. “What?” he asked again, through his mouthful.

 

“I was just wondering… what it’s like, dating a teacher,” Ron said, shrugging. “I mean, doesn’t it feel weird, now that you’re back here and everything, and taking lessons from him and everything?”

 

Harry took his time answering, pushing the same scrambled eggs around on his plate. He was never really hungry when he was tired. “I guess I just don’t really think of myself as much of a student any more,” he said, still thinking about his answer. “I don’t mean that I think I’m done learning or anything, but I’m more concerned with the war, and the Order, and what’s going to happen after this than things like NEWT’s and stuff.”

 

“What are you planning to do after this?” Ron asked, sounding a bit awkward.

 

Harry looked at him. “The same thing as before, Ron. Hopefully kill Voldemort, then go into Auror training and all that. Same as you, minus the killing bit.”

 

“No, I meant…” Ron blushed, glancing at the staff table, “you and Snape.”

 

“What do you mean?” Harry, too, looked over at the staff table, where he saw Severus looking even paler than usual (probably because he was tired) but talking quite animatedly with Professor Sprout. She was holding her hands wide apart, as though describing a very large plant of some sort, and Severus was looking interested, head tilted sideways and commenting on her description.

 

“I mean, do you expect you’ll keep seeing him, and that?” Ron asked directly.

 

Without taking his eyes from the staff table and the figure of his lover, Harry smiled dreamily. “I hope so,” was all he said. He turned back to face his best friend. “Okay? Does that answer your question? I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen; I don’t even know if I’ll live through this year. But if there’s some future to be had, I’d like Severus to be a part of it.”

 

“Would you marry him?” Ron’s curiosity got the better of his reluctance to hear details.

 

“I don’t know yet. Are you planning to marry Hermione?” Harry asked pointedly, making his friend blush again.

 

“I don’t know yet, either,” Ron said, conceding the point. He looked at Harry very seriously. “You must really have strong feelings for him.”

 

“I love him,” Harry said simply. “Okay?”

 

“It doesn’t need to be okay with me for it to happen.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“But it is.”

 

Harry gave Ron an incredulous look. “Do you mean that, mate?” he asked.

 

“I do,” Ron said resolutely. “I just want you to know that, alright? I’m a hundred percent behind you. I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you so happy. But you’re still going to hang with Hermione and me, right?”

 

“Of course,” Harry said in surprise. “If I’m not in your way or anything.”

 

Ron threw a bit of bread at him. “You prat,” he said. “You’ll never be in the way of us.”

 

“Well, honestly,” said Harry. “I mean, unless the ‘Golden Trio’ becomes a threesome in earnest, you guys’ll need space for your own relationship, too. I can’t always be tagging along.”

 

“Harry,” said Ron firmly, “I promise you that there will always be space for you with us. It’ll all work.”

 

Harry felt a warm rush of gratitude toward his friend at these words. He had worried about this very thing for some time now. “Can I ask you something?” he asked.

 

“Shoot.”

“When we’re done school and stuff,” Harry said, choosing his words carefully, “will you – will you be more comfortable around Severus?”

 

Ron took a long drink of orange juice. “Well, mate, I can honestly tell you that I’ll try. I mean, I never thought I’d even be able to see him as being human enough to have a relationship with anyone, never mind my best mate. If he’s going to end up practically my brother-in-law, I guess I’ll have to try even harder.”

 

Harry smiled. “Will you try calling him by his first name?”

 

Ron looked dubious. “Are you sure he wouldn’t take my head off?”

 

“If we’re finished school, I’m quite positive that it would make him really happy. He thinks no one likes him,” Harry said, then added quickly, “ – and don’t say that no one does, because people do, more than either he or they think.”

 

Ron grinned, biting his tongue. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Sure. I’ll try. Just warn him or something before that happens, okay?”

 

Harry grinned back. “Sure. Come on, mate, we’ve got Herbology in ten minutes.” And with that, he grabbed his bag and swung himself up from his seat. He looked quickly back at the staff table and received the briefest of sweet looks from the man he loved. The glow of it, plus his positive conversation with Ron, kept him warm all morning.

 

* * *

 

Herbology proved to be a very interesting lesson. Harry had the chance to discover just what Professor Sprout had been going on about at breakfast, as she showed them the enormous Bertie Botts bean sprouts she had managed to germinate. The seeds alone were about the length of Harry’s arm, and they’d already sprouted thick, green tendils, which were extremely curly and visibly growing. Harry looked around at his classmates, wondering if any of them had also missed the fact that Every Flavour Beans came from an actual plant, unlike muggle sweets. Dean, Neville and Ron also looked quite incredulous, but it was hard to tell if it was just at the size of the beans or the other thing.

 

The lesson ended up just measuring the pods and sprouts for Professor Sprout, who bragged that she had been secretly trying to breed the species extra-large for some time. If she was successful, Every Flavour Beans would now come in a larger size as well as the regular size. At one point, Hermione (naturally) put up her hand.

 

“Yes, Ms. Granger?” Sprout beamed in Hermione’s direction.

 

“I was just wondering,” Hermione said, “whether you’ve also tried altering the flavours at all, or adding any new ones, or anything else to modify the plants besides the size.”

 

“Oh, no,” the flyaway-haired professor assured her. “For one thing, you can’t add flavours; they already come in every flavour. And there’s a peculiar bit of magic in them that causes them to seek out every flavour on the planet; it would be very difficult to take individual flavours away. No, it’s just the size I’ve tampered with.”

 

Ron looked at Harry. “Did you know they came from plants?” he asked in a low voice, trying avoid Hermione hearing him.

 

Harry felt relieved. “No,” he muttered back. “Muggle sweets are all man-made. I had no idea.”

 

“Me neither, mate. Don’t tell `Mione.” Ron glanced quickly at his girlfriend, now magically measuring the pod in front of her.

 

Harry grinned. “Course not,” he said. He spent the rest of the lesson measuring pods and charting tendril growth speeds with Ron. In the back of his mind, he was thinking about how unrelated this was to the bigger things in life, such as the war, Voldemort, his personal growth as a wizard in terms of learning to defeat Voldemort. But it was very pleasant to just play at being a normal student for a while. Although Harry still disliked actually brewing potions, Potions class was sure to be less of a nightmare than before, obviously – he was looking forward to every minute he was allowed to be near Severus. And Defense Against the Dark Arts was directly related to the war, as was Charms. Harry decided to do his best to relax and be as normal as possible, enjoy his time with his friends and Severus, and worry about Voldemort when the time came.


	10. Revelations in Potions

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing at all – except this overactive imagination of mine

 

Chapter 10: Revelations in Potions

 

The Gryffindors had Potions after lunch, along with the few Slytherins who had kept up with it. Snape announced that they would be working in pairs, and announced that they had to partner someone from the opposite House. Harry was staring dismally around the dungeon, trying to think of someone to go with. Hermione had already taken her cauldron and gone over to sit with a Slytherin girl whose name Harry had never known (she was very quiet), and Ron had heaved a great sigh and gone to sit with Blaise Zabini. As Harry brooded, Malfoy sighed, got up and moved his stuff over to the table where Harry was now sitting alone.

 

“Looks like it’s you and me, Potter,” he sighed.

 

Harry gave him a disgruntled look. “What?”

 

“There’s no one else left,” Malfoy said simply. “We have to work together. Believe me, you’re not my first choice, either. If I’d had my way I’d be working with the Mudblood.”

 

“Don’t call her that!” Harry snapped.

 

Malfoy shrugged. “Fine, have it your way. Come on, we have to get the ingredients.” And with that, he turned and began walking to the storage cabinet. Harry waited a moment, sighed, then followed the sleek, blond head. Severus caught his eye as he came forward and gave a slight smile. Harry looked pointedly at Malfoy and scowled.

 

“He’s not hurting you, so far,” Severus mouthed.

 

Harry shrugged. Severus touched his arm as he passed, and Harry paused to lean into it a little, to show that he wasn’t mad at Severus. Then he moved off quickly, not wanting to make a public display, to join Malfoy at the cupboard. The Slytherin was calmly, quietly gathering ingredients.

 

Harry reached in to get some powdered sunflower petals, Malfoy said, “Don’t. I already have some. Actually, I think I have everything.”

 

Harry looked at the load in Malfoy’s arms. “You don’t have any sunflower petals.” He sounded confused.

 

“I mean, I have some of my own,” Malfoy said quietly. “I have a lot of extra ingredients.”

 

“Oh,” said Harry. “Well – ” he could feel Severus’ eyes on him and Malfoy – “do you – do you want some help carrying that stuff, then?”

 

Malfoy considered. “Carry the dragon blood,” he said. “I’m going to drop it.”

 

Harry took it from him and followed him back to their seat. That was strange, he mused. When was the last time that he and Malfoy had exchanged a civil conversation? They sat down. Malfoy put some water in his cauldron, pushing Harry’s aside. They quietly made their assigned potion together and nothing bad happened. Harry could hardly believe it. He didn’t really want to be petty in front of Severus, and Malfoy wasn’t provoking him at all, so he had no need to be mean himself.

 

“Malfoy,” he said after a bit. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve hardly insulted me at all for the past forty minutes.”

 

Malfoy stirred the potion calmly, pausing to squint at the instructions on the board. “Oops, other way now,” he said. “Well, Potter, I just figure that you’re actually adequate at potion-making now, and I don’t want you wrecking it in your wrath, as I’m being marked for it, too.”

 

Harry smiled grimly. “So that’s it. I see.” He looked at the board, too. “Should I put the newt eggs in now?”

 

Malfoy nodded.

 

“You’re just generally quieter, too, though,” Harry pressed. “You just seem different.”

 

Malfoy looked up quickly. “Maybe I am different, Potter. Ever think of that?”

 

“No,” Harry said truthfully.

 

“Well, maybe you should. And besides, you smiled at me yesterday in this class yourself.”

 

Harry remembered. “Freaked you out, didn’t it?”

 

“It was strange,” Malfoy admitted. He paused. “I also got told to stop being such a jerk. Don’t ask from who, because I’m not going to tell you.”

 

Harry looked at the potion. “Hey. D’you think it’s ready?”

 

Malfoy looked at it, too. “Yes.” He extinguished the fire beneath the cauldron and quickly, neatly ladled a scoop of it into a vial without spilling any. He was good, Harry realized. Not such a bad partner to have, after all. “Here.” Malfoy handed Harry the vial. “Hand it in.”

 

“Okay.” Harry took it from the other unquestioningly, which seemed to surprise the Slytherin. He went up to the front and set it on Severus’ desk. Severus surveyed it (as it was the only one there yet) and gave Harry a secret smile and a small nod. Harry went back to his seat.

 

“The rest of you should also be handing in your samples at this time,” Snape called out. “Any further brewing and they will be ruined. Ten points to both Slytherin and Gryffindor for Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter for handing theirs in first.”

 

“But sir,” Hermione’s voice sounded somewhere behind Harry, “we still have thirty minutes in the lesson!”

 

“I know that, Ms. Granger. Hand in your potions and I will explain what will we be doing for the remaining half hour.” Slowly, all the other students made their way to the front of the dungeon, clutching variously-coloured potions in vials. Harry noted that the only one the same light-green colour as his and Malfoy’s was Hermione and the Slytherin girl’s.

 

“Now.” Snape’s voice got everyone’s attention as silence fell in the room. “It is against the law to submit Veritaserum to the Ministry without testing it first, and as I do not particularly care to test it on myself, you will be testing the batch you made yesterday on one another. Same partners. Come to the front to collect your own samples.”

 

Isn’t this just peachy, thought Harry. Having to go with Malfoy for this. I just hope he doesn’t have wind of me and Severus. He moved up in the queue and collected his Veritaserum. Malfoy had gotten there before him and was already sitting at their table, looking, as Harry noticed with surprise, not smug, but actually rather nervous. Harry suddenly remembered that they were both being tested, not just himself, and felt a little better.

 

“You will question each other one at a time,” Snape instructed. “You will conjure yourselves glasses of water, add only one drop of Veritaserum, and record the results. It will not be necessary to record your partners’ answers, just the results. You are all in seventh year and I expect you to be mature about handling any sensitive information you come across, and to be discreet. Anything which is revealed under the influence of the potion must stay within this room. I will be most… displeased, should I find that any of you are taking advantage of anyone else’s personal information. Is that clear?” Silence. “Good. The effects of a single drop of the potion should last no longer than five minutes. Begin.”

 

Harry waved his wand and a cut-glass tumbler of water appeared. He looked at Malfoy. Malfoy had conjured a tall, glass flute of water and was looking expectantly at him. Harry uncorked his Veritaserum and added a single drop to Malfoy’s water. Malfoy looked apprehensive. He raised the flute to his thin, pointed face and suddenly stopped. “Potter,” he said, sounding very nervous. “You heard Snape. Please be… kind.”

 

Harry nodded, feeling very serious. Malfoy took a sip, then another. “What is your name?” Harry asked, testing.

 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” said the Slytherin immediately.

 

“Favourite colour?”

 

Malfoy’s eyes rolled at the question, but said immediately, “Silver.”

 

Harry paused. “Who told you to stop being mean to me?” he asked, very softly.

 

“Severus Snape.”

 

“What is your relationship to Severus Snape?” Harry asked.

 

“He is my Head of House and godfather.”

 

Harry was surprised by this. “Has he always been your godfather?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Does he get along with your father?”

 

“No. My father thinks that they are still friends, but it is not the case. He does not know that Snape spies for Dumbledore.”

 

Harry digested this. Then, “What happened to you over the summer, that you’ve changed?”

 

Malfoy’s face was unusually soft and sad. “I told my father that I was not certain that I wanted to receive the Dark Mark after graduation in spring. He was very angry. He has threatened to disown me.”

 

“Why would you refuse the Mark?” Harry’s curiosity pressed him; he wanted answers before the potion wore off.

 

“I am not certain where I stand on the war. I suspect that I will turn to Dumbledore and Snape for guidance. I suspect that I will end up on your side.” Malfoy looked at Harry, eyes bright. “You must not repeat any of this, to anyone.”

 

Harry looked at him. “Has the potion worn off?”

 

“I don’t know,” said Malfoy.

 

“Tell me a lie.”

 

Malfoy’s customary sneer returned. “You’re a pureblood,” he said.

 

“Okay, it has, then,” said Harry, knowing full well that Malfoy knew he was only half-blood. Malfoy leaned forward an added a drop of his own potion to Harry’s water. Harry hesitated momentarily, then said, “Same deal, Malfoy. Be kind, and keep your mouth closed after this.” Malfoy nodded, and Harry drank about half the water in his glass.

 

“Thirsty, Potter?” Malfoy smirked.

 

“Yes, I was,” answered Harry immediately. “Not any more.”

 

“State your full name.”

 

“Harry James Potter.”

 

“Legal guardians?”

 

“None. I am of age.”

 

“Who were your legal guardians?”

 

“Vernon and Petunia Dursley.”

 

“Why were they your guardians?”

 

“Petunia Dursley was my mother’s sister. Dumbledore made her take me in after my parents were killed.”

 

Malfoy winced. He obviously hadn’t meant to make Harry talk about anything like that. In a different tone of voice, he asked, “What do you expect will happen during the war?”

 

Harry answered in a flat tone (which generally meant the victim did not want to answer), “A prophecy was made that either I or Voldemort will kill one another. I am the only living wizard with the power to destroy him. One of us will die.”

 

Malfoy sat back, in shock. This he had not known, and he was positive that his father did not know, either. He realized that it was imperative that the Death Eaters never know, or Harry’s life would really be in danger. Unless the Dark Lord was the only one who could kill him, too. He considered his next question. “Do you think you will win?”

 

“I do not know. I cannot guess the future.”

 

“Does anyone else know about the Prophecy?”

 

“Only Dumbledore, Severus, Ron and Hermione.”

 

Malfoy was surprised to hear Harry call Snape by his first name. He’d always been under the impression that Potter hated Snape, and vice-versa. “Severus?” he asked.

 

Harry was silent, mustering his entire will not to say anything unless he had to. “Ask me something else,” he said.

 

Malfoy pondered. “Are Weasley and Granger dating?” he asked, smiling at the question.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you jealous, Potter?”

 

“No,” said Harry automatically. “I was initially afraid that they would leave me out, but they’re not. I’m not jealous.”

 

“Have you got a crush of your own, Potter?” Malfoy’s eyes glinted.

 

Harry paused. Miraculously, though, the potion seemed to be wearing off. “No,” he made himself say, and it was only a little bit difficult. “That was an unfair question, Malfoy,” he added, feeling himself more in control than ever. “I didn’t ask you anything like that.”

 

Malfoy shrugged. “Couldn’t resist. Sorry, Potter.”

 

Harry gave him a hard look. “Malfoy, look. I don’t care how much you hate me, but you absolutely must not tell anyone about the Prophecy, do you hear? It could change the entire course of the war.”

 

Malfoy looked a bit taken aback. “I won’t, Potter, surely you know that. Obviously I won’t tell my father. And to be honest, I’m not really very good friends with any of the Slytherins any more, so I wouldn’t tell them, anyway.”

 

It was Harry’s turn to look surprised. “Okay. Sorry.” He paused. “I didn’t know… about you and your father, or about the other Slytherins.” He was quite surprised that Malfoy had said this without even being under the potion’s influence.

 

Malfoy looked away. “I know you didn’t know. You do now. Keep your mouth shut about it.”

 

“I will. You, too.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Harry hesitated, glancing over at Ron. “Malfoy,” he began awkwardly.

 

“I don’t need your pity, Potter!” Malfoy snapped suddenly, silvery eyes flashing.

 

“That’s not what I was going to say,” said Harry, forcibly repressing his anger. “I was just going to say, if you want, you can hang out with Ron and Hermione and me sometime. You don’t have to. But if you’re thinking of fighting on our side, anyway, I think we can put the old feud aside. Just if you want some new friends, that’s all.”

 

Malfoy went quiet, fiddling with something on his robes. Finally, he looked up. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll think about it. We have to write down our observations.” He pulled out some parchment and a quill and turned away from Harry.

 

Harry watched him for a moment, then did the same. He was right, they had to hand in their results, and there were only five minutes left in the lesson.

 

After handing in his parchment roll, Malfoy grabbed his things and hurried out without looking at Harry. The Gryffindors had a break now, anyway, so Harry lingered in the classroom, motioning Ron and Hermione to go on without him. Hermione gave him a knowing smile and pulled Ron out after her.

 

Severus waited until everyone was gone, then sent a Sealing charm toward the door. He came over and sat down on the stool Malfoy had been sitting on. “How was that?” he asked Harry, smiling.

 

Harry shot him a look. “Okay, actually,” he confessed. “I managed not to tell Malfoy about us.”

 

Severus exhaled a sigh of relief. “Good for you,” he said. “It would have been okay if he had found out, I can control him to some extent, but it’s easier if he doesn’t know yet.”

 

“Yet?” Harry asked curiously.

 

Severus gave him a warm smile. “Yes, ‘yet’,” he said. “After the war, when we’re both out of danger, I know that I, at least, will want to be with you publicly.”

 

Harry twined his fingers into Severus’ and smiled back. “I will, too,” he said. Then, “I didn’t know you were Malfoy’s godfather.”

 

“I know you didn’t. I was going to tell you, but I thought it might be better to let you and him become a little less hostile first. I honestly didn’t expect you two to end up working together today. And I seriously thought about rearranging the partners before testing the Veritaserum, but in the end, it seems to have worked out alright.”

 

“Actually, it wasn’t bad at all,” Harry mused. “He told me about his father, and this past summer and the war and stuff. I had no idea he’d ever even considered not becoming a Death Eater.”

 

“I like to think I’ve had a positive influence on him,” Severus said dryly.

 

“I ended up telling him about the Prophecy,” Harry said ruefully. “He did say he wouldn’t say anything to Lucius, but…”

 

“I’ll mention it to him,” said Severus.

 

Harry scooted his stool closer to Severus’, so that he could lean against him and wrap his arms around him. “He also told me that you told him to stop being such a jerk to me.”

 

Severus looked both surprised and amused. “That was just this morning,” he said. “I was thinking about your animosity over the years, after something you said last night, and I was just thinking. I knew about his summer, and how close he is to making a commitment to fight on our side, so I thought it might be nice if you didn’t have that to deal with.”

 

“Thanks,” said Harry simply. “He respects you a lot, you know. Much more than his father.”

 

“I know,” said Severus, just as simply. “Another good reason for you and him to get along, wouldn’t you say?”

 

Harry turned his face up to be kissed. Severus complied, kissing him slowly and tenderly. After, he said gently, “Harry, I have to mark these potions before I have the third years in forty-five minutes.”

 

“Okay,” said Harry, reluctantly leaving his lover’s embrace. “See you later?”

 

“Yes, but let’s make it an early night, okay? I’m tired,” said Severus, smiling.

 

“Me, too,” Harry admitted. “Okay. Right after dinner, then. I’ll be down.”

 

“See you then.” Severus took Harry’s face in his hands, rubbed his thumbs over Harry’s cheeks. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, and kissed Harry’s forehead softly.


	11. Memories

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize

 

Chapter 11: Memories

 

Harry laid his warm palm against the doorwards of Severus’ apartments. A doorknob made from a single crystal appeared. He bent and laid his equally-warm lips against the cool crystal and waited for it to turn and admit him. When it had, Harry stepped over the threshold and into his lover’s waiting arms.

 

Severus began to speak immediately, quietly. “There are few things I want to do more than to be able to eat dinner with you, at the same table, and to leave the Hall together, in the full sight of everyone.” Harry was startled by this sudden pronouncement, and didn’t reply. The older man went on. “I know this would never happen, even if it could. Perhaps I am too much of a recluse anyway, to be so open about something. But you know, Harry… you, being with you… it gives me great joy. And that is something which I never thought I would live to experience. Joy. Love.”

 

Harry felt his heart swell to the bursting point. He hugged Severus fiercely and spoke into his chest. “I love you, Severus, I love you! My whole life is different now. I never even considered that it was possible to feel like this!”

 

Severus put one hand on Harry’s cheek, hooking his thumb under the young man’s chin and turned his face up to his own. “I love you,” he said softly, and bent to kiss Harry, who threw himself wholly into the kiss, and the kiss became more important than anything. While it lasted, both men forget that there was anything but themselves, this moment, their love for one another. It was more important than the war, than school, than sex; all that mattered was this incredible feeling of oneness and joy that they shared. Finally, gasping for air, they broke apart, still gazing at one another incredulously.

 

“Take me to bed,” Harry said, his voice thrumming with both emotion and desire. Severus smiled and pulled Harry to him. Harry jumped and wrapped both legs around Severus, who carried him into the bedroom.

 

A little later, they lay in one another’s arms, sated, their breathing returning to normal, though both bodies still glistened with sweat. They had gotten into a habit of talking afterwards, long, lasting talks which were probably the foundation of their entire relationship. “Harry,” Severus murmured against his forehead.

 

“Mmm-hmm?” Harry murmured back, not opening his eyes.

 

“Tell me about Cho Chang.”

 

Harry’s eyes flew open. “What?!” he exclaimed, startled. Where in Merlin’s name had that come from?

 

Severus made an impatient movement with his head. “I saw, during your fifth year, in Occlumency lessons. You kissed her. Or rather, she kissed you. There was mistletoe. I don’t know where it happened.”

 

Harry remembered all too well, remembered thinking that he’d blocked that particular memory from Severus. Obviously, he’d thought wrong. “That was a long time ago,” he said, stalling. Severus was silent, clearly waiting for a more adequate response. “It was nothing,” Harry said, quite truthfully. Well, it hadn’t been nothing at the time, but it certainly turned out to be nothing.

 

“If it was nothing, why was she kissing you?” Severus asked, voice testy.

 

“Well, I kind of liked her, and I guess she liked me, but it didn’t work out. Nothing in common aside from quidditch, plus she had a friend who ratted out the entire DA. And I’m gay, so there was no real attraction. Satisfied?” Harry knew he sounded a bit terse, but he couldn’t believe that Severus was jealous – at least he sounded jealous – of that.

 

He was quiet. “I see,” he said in a calmer voice. He thought. “How,” he asked in a different voice, “did you rescue Sirius from the Dementors that night, at the end of your third year?”

 

Harry wondered at this, a question about Sirius. As though sensing Harry’s concern, Severus quickly added, “It is the rescue I am concerned with, and your part in it, rather than the other subjects. I never did get to hear how you pulled that one off.” He paused, noticing that Harry had not yet begun to talk, and added stiffly, “Unless you would rather not talk about it.”

 

Harry twisted his head about so that he could look into Severus’ eyes. “I just don’t like thinking about that night at all, if I can help it,” he said honestly. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you.” He considered. “I know,” he said. “Maybe I can just remember it clearly and you can use your legilimency skills to, I don’t know, see it, or experience it, or whatever.” He looked at Severus for his reaction.

 

Severus’ dark eyes were wide. “Are you certain, Harry? I – I wouldn’t invade your privacy that way, not now, at least.”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Harry said. He focussed on the memory. The Shrieking Shack. Going back in time with the time-turner. Buckbeak. The werewolf, the rat, and the Dementors. “Okay, I’m ready,” he said, and looked trustingly, wide-eyed, into Severus’ eyes.

 

“Legilimens,” Severus murmured, looking into Harry’s eyes before closing his own. Harry closed his, too, and slowly relived the scene for the man he loved. It finally came to a close as Harry re-witnessed himself and Hermione re-entering the hospital wing and Severus’ own shrieking fury at Sirius’ escape and his conviction that Harry had been behind it all. Harry smirked at his own memory when Dumbledore had said something about Harry and Hermione being in two places at once. The memory faded. Harry opened his eyes, to find Severus looking thoughtful.

 

“So that’s how he managed not to lie about it,” he mused. “I knew it was you, Harry; it just had you stamped all over it. And so you weren’t Confunded after all. What a prat I was,” he added, looking chagrined.

 

Harry smiled and brushed a lock of shining dark hair from Severus’ face. “Can I ask you something?” he asked.

 

“You just did.”

 

“Git,” Harry said playfully.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Harry paused, not wanting to bring up painful subject matter, battling with his curiosity. “Why won’t Dumbledore let you teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?” He watched Severus closely.

 

The other paused, too, moving restlessly. “I suppose it is two-fold. First, there is the simple reason that I am, whether I like it or not, the resident expert Potions Master in this part of the world. I have made several very useful inventions over the years.”

 

“Like what?” Harry hadn’t meant to interrupt, but…

 

“Pepper-Up Potion,” Severus began, “though I did not choose that ridiculous name for it, Veritaserum, the Draught of Peace, and the Wolfsbane Potion.”

 

“You invented all of those?” Harry said, amazed. “All of them? Really?”

 

“All of them,” Severus assured him, smiling. “That is one of the reasons that two of those potions are only taught here at Hogwarts; I have yet to make the recipes available to the rest of the wizarding world.”

 

“That’s amazing!” Harry said, still blown away.

 

“The other reason,” Severus continued, looking thoughtful again, and just a little bit bitter, “is that I am sure that Dumbledore would prefer I spend my time thinking less about the Dark Arts.”

 

“But you’d be teaching defense, not the dark arts themselves,” Harry said.

 

“I know. Perhaps it is also that he does not want me to dwell on that part of my personal history. I would be constantly forced to relive my experiences as a Death Eater and just after I left Voldemort. Dumbledore… prefers to remind me of the person I have tried to be since that time, rather than that time itself, I believe.” Severus’ voice sounded a bit stiff, but his arms around Harry were just as gentle, his hold as assured.

 

Harry hesitated again. This would be the biggest question he would ask Severus. “Severus,” he said, and stopped. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to,” he said quietly.

At this, Severus stirred. He propped himself up on one elbow, leaning over Harry as he lay on his back. “Harry,” he said. “I trust you. I trust you so much that it frightens me. I wasn’t trying to question you about Cho before; I was just curious about that particular memory. I trust you as I trust no one else, not even Dumbledore. I hope that doesn’t overwhelm you.”

 

Harry attempted to absorb all of this. He felt like he was floating. He reached up to touch Severus’ face. “It’s not overwhelming, but it’s a lot to hear,” he said softly. “How could anyone trust me more than Dumbledore? Have I earned that much trust?”

 

“It is not whether or not you have earned it,” Severus said obdurately. “It is not because I have chosen to. It is only because I love you and have no choice about loving you. I therefore have no choice about trusting you.”

 

Harry smiled weakly, feeling the power of Severus’ words resonate in his very soul. “And you say you know so little about love,” he said wonderingly. “I think you understand it far better than most people.”

 

Severus returned the caress, gently stroking the side of Harry’s face, a strange sort of smile on his lips. “Ask your question,” he said. “I will tell you anything that I possibly can.”

 

Harry smiled again. “I was just wondering – what brought you back, to our side, I mean? What brought you back from Voldemort?”

 

Severus didn’t even flinch. “I wondered if that might be your question,” he said, smiling gently. “It was Dumbledore. He alone knew the details of my childhood, my upbringing. My solitude. I was desperately unhappy as a Death Eater, far less happy than I was even at school. I thought I was beyond hope. Dumbledore simply came to me one night and showed me that I was not beyond redemption. He showed me just by talking, not by any trick or magical secret. I was open to hearing him, for once in my life, if only because I was so very unhappy. And lonely. Dumbledore told me that he’d always had faith in me, despite what a sorry boy I was during my seven years in school. That, more than anything else, affected me. I broke down. I had no faith in myself, but he had faith in me. It was almost more than I could bear.” Severus paused here. “Dumbledore made me bear it, showed me that I could go on from there as a different man. I… I have not been as different as I would have liked, but I have often felt since then that I lacked the power to change fully. My underlying loyalties are correct, but my… prickly exterior. Dumbledore seems to see past it,” Severus added, with a wry laugh, “but until you, I think he was the only one who really did. Everyone else just puts up with me.”

 

Harry smiled. “You’re just not expendable,” he said, tracing the shape of Severus’ lips with one finger. Then he pulled the other down to his mouth. “I love you,” he whispered. “Thank you for telling me.”

 

“I’ve never talked about it since then,” Severus said.

 

“Does it make you feel vulnerable?”

 

Severus considered. “A bit. But it’s alright, because it’s you.” He gathered Harry into his arms again. “And I’m glad you’ve happened to me, made me open up. It could only have been you, somehow.”

 

Harry felt tears come into his eyes, and he rocked his lover back and forth. “I’m glad it was me,” was all he could say. “Oh, Severus, I’m so glad it was me.”

 

They stayed that way for many moments, neither wanting the precious moment to end. Finally, Severus pulled back far enough to say, “Stay with me tonight. I don’t want you to go, after that.”

 

Harry nodded. He knew, instinctively, that telling that particular story was, for Severus, far more intimate than any form of sex could ever be. And there was nothing in the world that could possibly induce Harry to leave at that particular juncture, anyway. “I wouldn’t leave if you made me,” he murmured incoherently. “Just as long as you wake me in time for class.”

 

Harry felt Severus laugh, to his surprise, and pulled back to look at him, question marks written across his features. “It just seems ludicrous to me that we’re actually still teacher and student, technically.”

 

Harry laughed, too, his breath creating a warm breeze on Severus’ neck. “I think that technically, Severus, we’re much more than that.”

 

And so they fell asleep, the sound of each other’s low laughter in their ears, holding one another as though it were the last day of their lives.


	12. The Choices of Master Draco

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize

 

Chapter 12: The Choices of Master Draco

 

(A/N: Yes, yes, I am aware that I stole that title from JRR Tolkien, God bless his resting soul. That’s why it’s FUNNY.)

 

And so the days went by. The first weeks back at school became routine again. Harry found that he had much to do in terms of schoolwork, but by some miracle, he really was improving, and finding the work less difficult. Hermione was always on hand, but both Ron and Harry found that they needed her help less. The two Heads usually came to the Gryffindor common room in the evenings to do their homework and be with Harry, as before, and also to hang out with Dean, Seamus, Neville and Ginny. If it was too noisy, the three generally went back to the Head Student quarters to do their work. Harry was pleased to see that Ron was true to his word, and he never felt left out or excluded from Ron and Hermione’s company, and they often went out of their way to make him feel welcome in being with them.

 

Dumbledore had started contacting other students who might be interested in joining the Order of the Phoenix upon graduation. If they were uninterested, or simply refused outright (which was rare, as the Headmaster’s judgement was very accurate), he simply erased the memory of the meeting. As Secret Keeper for the Order, it was his prerogative to invite new members. So far, all of their fellow seventh-year Gryffindors were planning to join the Order, including Parvati Patil and Lavendar Brown. There were also several Ravenclaws – all of the former DA members, plus a few more, and several Hufflepuffs. And all of the staff, including the elusive Professors Sinistra and Trelawney, as well as the obstruse Professor Vector. Flitwick, Sprout, McGonagall, Hagrid and Snape were givens.

 

Harry fell into a routine. School, quidditch, homework, fun time. And the nights he spent with Severus. All of them. It was just a question of when or whether he would leave. Sometimes he went down to the dungeons right after dinner (usually when he didn’t have much homework, or on the weekend); other times he waited until his dorm-mates had gone to bed and crept out quietly. Harry found that he had been right in suggesting that, as a seventh year, people would questions his whereabouts less. Ron and Hermione were in their own quarters, anyway, and Dean, Seamus and Neville had their own agenda to concern themselves with – Neville primarily with Ginny (their on-again, off-again relationship was a puzzle no one but they seemed to understand), Dean with Parvati, and Seamus with whomever he seemed to be able to get his hands on. No one cared if Harry spent the odd night away from the dorm. For all they knew, he had fallen asleep over his homework in the common room. As a rule, they did not question one another about any flutterings of bed-hangings, or of eerie silences behind them clearly induced by silencing spells.

 

It seemed that their partners in Potions class were permanent, at least for the rest of the term. Harry and Malfoy were continually paired together, as were his friends with their newfound Slytherin counterparts. Malfoy continued to be courteously polite to Harry, but retained an aloof edge, a slice of distance that was not coldness. But it was clear that the Slytherin was not interested in opening any further soul-searching dialogue. Harry took his lead from the other, refrained from referring to his own comment about Malfoy becoming friends with himself, Ron and Hermione, and bent his energies simply on creating the assigned potions.

 

There were times when Harry could nearly feel Malfoy’s inner turmoil, his conflict. It practically radiated from the intense young man at times. Harry wondered which way he would go in the end, whether Malfoy would fulfill Severus’ trust in him, or cave to his father’s wishes.

 

One afternoon, in the break between classes and dinner, Harry went to find Severus in his office. The door was open, though the corridor was empty. A flash of silver-blond told him who Severus’ visitor was.

 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Draco,” he heard Severus’ voice say seriously. “You must make your own decisions. You must do what you feel is right.”

 

“I know what’s right,” came Malfoy’s voice intensely. “It’s not that simple. If I refuse the Mark, my father will disown me. They’ll kill me, you know they will.”

 

There was an eloquent silence. “That would indeed be the result of making that decision, Draco. If you choose to fight with us, you will become a marked man. But you are very talented. If you chose that way, you would be of great help to our cause. And you would not be alone.”

 

“You’re asking me to betray my family.”

 

“Have they not already betrayed you by placing you in this position?”

 

“Does that matter? Does it make it right if I do it?” Malfoy sounded angry, and Harry saw one hand come up to smooth back his sleek hair.

 

“Draco, I do not think that choosing that way would constitute a betrayal. But you must follow your own conscience.” Severus’ voice sounded strained, as though he didn’t know what to say.

 

“Is that all you have to say?” Malfoy demanded. “I came to you because I need advice. I need help.”

 

“I have told you what I feel you should do. But in the end, it must be your own decision, Draco. I think you should leave the Dark behind you and follow your heart.”

 

“Follow my heart?” Malfoy repeated. “Since when do you say things like that?”

 

“Since I starting doing it myself,” Severus retorted.

 

Another intense silence fell. “What?” Malfoy asked, sounding as strained as his godfather.

 

“Draco,” Severus said slowly, “listen to me. I came back from the Dark side myself, and it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I am simply trying to spare you having to go through the same thing. Fight with me.”

 

“What do you mean,” Malfoy persisted, “by saying that you’ve started following your heart? Do you mean leaving the Death Eaters? Or do you mean something more recent?”

 

A pause. Harry began to feel very awkward, standing out there in the hallway. He wondered if he should leave, not wanting to be caught in this position. But the next response stopped him. He had to hear this.

 

“Draco,” Severus said, more quietly than before, “I am in love.”

Another pause. “What?!”

 

“I wanted you to know.”

 

“But – who?” Malfoy sounded incredulous.

 

“Do you really want to know?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Malfoy responded guardedly. “Is it a man or a woman?”

 

Harry could hear the smile in Severus’ voice. “Does it matter?”

 

“Of course not. You know that.”

 

“What do you think?”

 

There was a pause as Malfoy evidently considered. “A man?” he guessed finally.

 

There was the smile again. “Yes.”

 

“Someone I know?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Severus said dryly.

 

“Someone I like?”

 

“I don’t know. You certainly didn’t used to, but I have a feeling that may be changing.”

 

Another thinking pause. “Someone I didn’t used to like, but who I like now,” Malfoy mused. “Someone…” his voice suddenly gained volume with comprehension. “Oh, sweet Merlin, tell me it’s not Potter!”

 

“I’d prefer it if you called him Harry,” Severus said smoothly, not missing a beat.

 

Malfoy muttered something incomprehensible, his face evidently buried in his hands.

 

“What was that?”

 

“How long?” The voice was clear again as Malfoy must have looked up.

 

“Since early August.” Severus’ voice was still even.

 

“And you’re – you’re in love with him?”

 

“Yes. Very much so.”

 

“And he’s… in love with you?”

 

“Yes.” Again, Harry could hear the smile in the slightly-dreamy voice of his lover.

 

“Potter?” Malfoy repeated disbelievingly. “Oh – sorry, Harry, I mean,” he added, in a tone that suggested he had also rolled his eyes. “I thought you two hated each other.”

 

“Has no one ever told you that hate is simply love which has missed its way?” Severus asked, still sounding perfectly calm.

 

“No,” Malfoy said.

 

“Well, now you know. You two seem to be getting along in Potions class these days. I never thought I’d see the day when you could actually work together without hexing each other into next week.”

 

“Me, neither,” admitted Malfoy. “I guess he’s alright,” he said grudgingly. He seemed to consider his next words for a bit, then finally said, “He offered to be friends with me, actually. He said I could hang out with him and Granger and Weasley.”

 

“Did he?” said Severus, sounding deeply impressed. “That’s wonderful, Draco. You could use some real friends. They would be good friends for you, you know.”

 

“Has the whole world gone mad?” Malfoy retorted. “Since when do you like Weasley and Granger?”

 

“They were very… understanding about my relationship with Harry this summer,” Severus said. “Very tactful. And accepting. I assume that they’ve only acted this way for Harry’s sake, but I appreciate it all the same. And they have both behaved quite well in class this year, no doubt in tribute of the same.”

 

“Where were you this summer, that all of them were there?” Malfoy asked, sounding confused.

 

“Somewhere concerning Dumbledore,” Severus told him. He paused, then added, “You know that I cannot say more until you have made your decision, Draco. Oh, and I expect you to keep this conversation utterly secret. Is that understood?”

 

“Of course,” Malfoy said. He waited. “Are you happy?” he asked directly. “You’ve seemed happier this term. Is it because of Pot – Harry?”

 

“Yes,” Severus said simply. “I love him. He loves me. He makes me happy. I have never been happy before.”

 

“Then I’m happy for you,” Malfoy said, in a tone that Harry realized was, for once, perfectly sincere.

 

“So am I,” Severus told him, smiling. “I think you should talk to him. It would make me happier yet if you two were friends. He’ll need your help to win this war, Draco.”

 

“What makes you think he’ll win it?” Malfoy retorted.

 

“I feel it,” Severus said, with no further explanation. “I will be there, right beside him, and so will Dumbledore, any number of extremely talented Aurors, his Gryffindor friends, a great many of the other professors here, and so forth.”

 

“I want to be on the winning side.”

 

“I know, Draco. We all do, but it’s not that simple.”

 

A silence ensued. “I’ll keep thinking about it,” Malfoy said finally.

 

“You can talk to me at any time.”

 

“I know. Thanks.” Malfoy hesitated, then turned to go. “Severus?” he asked, turning back.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I really am happy for you.”

 

“Thank you,” said Severus quietly.

 

Harry silently crept down to the end of the corridor and began walking purposefully toward Severus’ office as though approaching for the first time. Malfoy backed out of the office and turned around. He stopped short at the sight of Harry. Harry stopped walking.

 

“Malfoy,” he said courteously, neutrally.

 

“Potter.” Malfoy inclined his head slightly, but looked just a little flustered.

 

“Malfoy,” Harry said again, very carefully, “I don’t know if you’ve thought any more about hanging out with Ron and Hermione and me at all, but if you want, we were going to watch the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff quidditch match tonight, and if you wanted to sit with us, you could.”

 

“O – okay,” Malfoy said, hardly believing his own ears, but quite aware of the half-open door behind him. “Which – which team are you supporting?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? First match of the season and all. Besides, either your team or my team will win in the end, anyway.” He grinned, half-apologetically.

 

Malfoy allowed himself a cautious smile. “You’re probably right,” he said. “Er – where should I meet you?”

 

“Perhaps – perhaps the Entrance Hall, say ten minutes after dinner? Then we can change, or whatever.”

 

“Get extra cloaks,” Malfoy agreed. “It’s getting cold out there.”

 

“Okay,” said Harry, feeling a bit weird about the whole thing. “Well – see you then.”

 

“Right,” Malfoy said, clearly feeling as wrong-footed as Harry. “See you later.” He quickly went around Harry and made his escape down the corridor to the Slytherin common room to recover his composure.

 

Harry also drew a deep breath, and went into Severus’ office. Severus was leaning back in his chair and smiling in a very self-satisfied way. “Hello,” he said.

 

“Hello,” Harry answered, closing the door behind him. He crossed the small room, ignoring, as usual, all the nasty things kept in the jars lining the shelves all around it, and sat down on Severus’ lap, craving closeness.

 

Severus wrapped his arms tightly around Harry. “That was a good thing you did, just now. He really needed that.”

 

“What, company to watch the quidditch match?” Harry said, laughing.

 

“No. To hear that you really would accept him, that you really meant what you told him in Potions.”

 

“I heard,” Harry confessed. “I heard your conversation. I didn’t want to interrupt. I thought it would be good, too. I still can’t quite believe he went for it,” he added wonderingly.

 

Severus snuggled into Harry’s warmth. The dungeons were cold sometimes. “Does that tell you how much he needs you? Or friends in general, rather? But all the better because you’re the right kind of friend for him for right now.”

 

“I guess,” Harry said. “I just hope it goes okay. I hope it’s okay with the other Slytherins if he sits with us.”

 

“Do you mind that I told him about us?” Severus asked.

 

“No. It sounded like he took it alright. I just thought you weren’t going to tell him just yet.”

 

“I thought he needed to be reminded of my trust in him,” Severus said, shrugging slightly. “You told me that people who trust each other tell each other their secrets.”

 

Harry smiled, remembering. “That was our first good conversation.”

 

“So it was,” Severus said, also smiling. “It was the prelude to our first – our first – ”

 

“This?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows and turning himself so that he was straddling the older man’s lap, pressing himself into his lover.

 

Severus drew in his breath sharply. “Yes, that!” he said. His hands slid down Harry’s back to rest on his ass, drawing him closer yet. Harry silenced him with a deep, slow kiss, and began to move against him. Severus moaned in response and moved with Harry, finding a rhythm together. They breathed into one another’s mouths, bodies, hands moving of their own accord. The friction between them rose to a shuddering climax, and they finally broke apart, panting and spent.

 

Severus glanced at the clock and said reluctantly, “Harry, dinner is starting in five minutes. We should go.”

 

Harry made a grumpy-sounding noise. “Fine,” he said, untangling himself from Severus’ embrace. “Let’s go, then.” He pointed his wand at himself. “Scourgify,” he muttered. He looked up, to catch Severus looking at him amusedly. “What?”

 

Severus reached out and lightly touched Harry’s puffy lips. “Nothing. It’s just that you look thoroughly kissed.”

 

Harry raised his eyebrows. “That’s not all that’s been thoroughly done to me.”

 

“You insolent brat,” Severus said, smacking Harry’s bottom slightly.

 

“Be careful, I might develop a liking for that,” Harry said wickedly.

 

Laughing, Severus chased him from the office. “Separate routes,” he said, like always, and took the passage to the left. “See you later on.”

 

Harry headed off to the right. “Yeah. Coming to the match?”

 

“Probably,” Severus said, already at the end of the corridor. “I’ll see you after that?”

 

“Yes,” Harry called. “Later!”


	13. The Quidditch Match

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I don’t own these people, sadly – but some of their actions are mine alone!

Chapter 13: The Quidditch Match

After dinner, Harry, Ron and Hermione waited just outside the Entrance Hall, already changed and dressed more warmly for the ensuing match. Harry had, of course, told them over dinner that Malfoy would be joining them. They had been, not surprisingly, quite surprised.

“He is?” Ron asked, confusion all over his face. “Malfoy?”

“Yep,” Harry said. “Is that okay?”

Ron looked lost. “I… I don’t even know what to say to that,” he said, looking dazed. “Since when are you and Malfoy friends?”

“We’re not, really,” Harry said honestly. “But I think he needs some, don’t you?” He looked at Hermione for support.

She looked thoughtful. “Well, yes,” she said. “And if he’s trying to make up his mind to join our side in the war, it would definitely help if he actually liked some of us. And if he knew that we liked him.”

“Exactly,” Harry said. He hesitated. “Also,” he added, not sure why he was saying this, “I think I feel bad for him. He’s in an awkward position with his father and all, and his reputation amongst the other Slytherins. I don’t think I hate him any more.”

“And,” Ron added, “I’m sure Snape would be quite pleased if you two made friends, eh?” He gave Harry a part-knowing, part-mocking look.

Harry nodded. “That’s part of it,” he said, not bothered by Ron, “but it really is the other stuff I said, too. So be nice to him, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron muttered. “As long as he’s nice to us.”

Harry, remembering Mrs. Weasley’s warning way back in August, on his way to his first meeting with Severus, admonished him. “No. Be nice regardless. Okay?”

“Fine,” said Ron, saving his eye-roll for when Harry wasn’t looking. Hermione gave Harry a reassuring smile.

Malfoy appeared suddenly in a run, though as soon as he saw the three Gryffindors, he slowed immediately into a walk and busied himself with looking as though he’d been walking slowly the whole way. He approached them looking somewhat cautious.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Harry said casually, then added in a mock-serious voice, “I believe you know my friends, Hermione and Ron?”

Malfoy gave Harry a strange look, rolling his eyes. “We’ve met,” he said, but he was smiling. “Weasley, Granger.”

“Hi Draco,” Hermione said. All three of the males looked at her in surprise. “What?” she said. “It’s his name, isn’t it?” she said to her friends. She turned back to Malfoy. “Is it okay if I call you Draco? Malfoy seems so formal.”

Malfoy shrugged, looking a bit disconcerted. “Okay, sure,” he said uncertainly. “Do you – should I call you… uh, Hermione, then?”

Hermione nodded serenely. “Sure, that’d be great,” she said. “Well then, should we go and get seats?” The crowd around them was swirling, as students went rushing outside from their dormitories. No one seemed to notice or care that Malfoy was standing with them.

“Sure, let’s go,” said Harry. He looked at Hermione, who got the picture, took Ron by the elbow and led the way outdoors. Harry glanced at Malfoy, who silently fell into step beside him.

As the four walked to the quidditch pitch, Harry felt distinctly awkward. He reminded himself that the Slytherin probably felt ten times more awkward. But what could he say? “Nice evening,” he said lamely.

Malfoy looked at him and suddenly grinned. It was an odd effect. Harry could not remember him ever doing such a thing before. It changed his whole expression.“Trying to make small talk, Potter?” he asked, still grinning.

Harry found himself grinning back. “I was trying to think of something to say,” he admitted.

“It’s a bit cold,” Malfoy responded, clearly answering Harry’s observation.

Encouraged, Harry went on. “But still good for playing.”

“Yes,” Malfoy said, only watching the way ahead of them. “When’s the Gryffindor-Slytherin match?”

“Not until after Christmas,” Harry said, then added in a joking tone, “We’ll be really good by then anyway, so I’m glad it’s not till later.”

Malfoy shot him a look, but couldn’t resist laughing at this. “We’ll see about that when the time comes, Potter,” he said.

“Yeah, I guess we will,” Harry answered, and dropped the bantering tone. He couldn’t believe that Malfoy had actually laughed at something he’d said. But then again, he still couldn’t believe that Malfoy was actually there with them at all. In a different tone of voice, he asked, “So… Malfoy, the other Slytherins… will they mind that you’re not sitting with them?”

Malfoy kept his gaze on the pitch, which was drawing near. “It doesn’t really matter,” he said at last. “Crabbe and Goyle are too stupid to care, and frankly, the less time I spend around Parkinson, the better.”

Harry looked at him curiously, though the blond kept his eyes ahead. “I thought you and her were friends. Or more, even.”

Now Malfoy gave him a strange look. “Has it escaped your notice that she’s annoying as hell?” he asked witheringly. “No,” he went on, in a more relaxed manner, “I only hang out with her because she’s in my House and our families are friends. I’m expected to… keep up appearances, at least. And the other two are more like bodyguards than friends. I don’t really have any friends, Potter. I told you that, remember?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, feeling awkward again. It was the first time Malfoy had referred to their Veritaserum-induced conversation. A pause fell. By this time, they were climbing up the stairs between the seats, following Ron and Hermione. Ron sat down first, then Hermione. Harry sat by her, and Malfoy sat down by him. The people in their section were mostly Gryffindors, but with a healthy scattering of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as well, dressed in their House colours. No Slytherins. Harry hoped Malfoy didn’t feel too weird. He scanned the crowd for Severus, who was sitting on the opposite side, in the front row of the section the Slytherins usually occupied. He, too, seemed to be scanning the crowd opposite himself, and finally his eyes found Harry and Malfoy. It was too far away to really make eye contact, but Harry could see a smile tug the corners of Severus’ mouth. He smiled back, hoping Severus could see him.

“What are you smiling about?” Malfoy asked him.

“Severus,” said Harry, without thinking. Then he realized what he’d called the professor and looked at Malfoy to see his reaction.

“It’s okay,” Malfoy said calmly. “He told me, just earlier today, actually.”

“I know,” Harry said, feeling very weird. “He told me, just after you were there.” He trailed off, not knowing what to say next.

Malfoy appeared to be watching the players assembling on the pitch far below them, eyes squinting against the light. “He said you make him very happy,” came his response, still focused on the players below.

Harry was a bit surprised that Malfoy was reacting so calmly. “Is that all you’re going to say?” he asked.

Malfoy sat up and looked at him. “It’s really none of my business,” he said. “If you’re both happy, then good. I’ve noticed it seems to have mellowed you out a bit. And you seem to be doing so much better in his class, which makes sense. And you don’t seem to hate me as much.”

“You don’t seem to hate me as much,” Harry pointed out.

Malfoy resumed his concentration on the pitch. So far, the players were just circling on their brooms in warm-up laps. “You’ve probably noticed that I’m different, too.”

“Yes.”

“I’m still trying to make this decision,” Malfoy said finally, after a substantial pause. “If I’m going to fight with you, then I guess I could stand to lose this thing we’ve had since first year. Like I said, I don’t really have any friends anyway, so I don’t think I have much to lose here.”

Harry chose his next words carefully. “Well, I guess we’re probably equally guilty there. But I swear, Malfoy, if you want to be friends with me and my friends, we’ll be there for you when you join us. We’ll be good friends to you. I know that having Ron and Hermione as my friends has made all the difference between my life being miserable and happy.”

“And Severus.”

“Yeah, and Severus,” Harry conceded, finding him in the crowd again.

“What makes you so certain I’ll join your side, Potter?”

“I just… feel it,” Harry said, shrugging at the lameness of his reply.

“That’s what Severus said before, about the war. That he just feels that your side will win.”

“It’s his side, too,” Harry reminded him.

“He has a lot of faith in you.”

The match began, and the fourteen players rose into the air. Seamus’ voice filled the air as he commentated, having replaced Lee Jordan the year before.

“I have a lot of faith in him, and all the other people on our side,” Harry countered, continuing the conversation. “We could really use you, Malfoy. And I think you could use us, to be honest.”

Malfoy’s eyes flashed, but before he could come up with a response, Ron had leaned over Hermione and Harry to ask, “Hey Malfoy, what do you think of the new Hufflepuff Seeker? Looks pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?”

Malfoy looked a bit startled, but dutifully spotted Justin Finch-Fletchley zooming around the Ravenclaw goal-hoops. “Yeah, pretty fast,” he said thoughtfully. “But I don’t know if he’s as fast as Chang. She’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, too bad she’s such a bitch,” Ron said.

Malfoy grinned again, and raised his cultured brows. “Thought you lot were friends with her? At least Potter used to seem to think she was alright.” There was a teasing look on his face.

Harry snorted. “That was a long time ago,” he said.

“It was also before her sneak friend ratted out our Defense group to Umbridge back in fifth year,” Hermione added, trying to save face for Harry, unaware that Malfoy already knew both his orientation and his relationship with Snape.

“Is that how she found out!” Malfoy said wonderingly. “I always wondered, because she wasn’t that bright on her own.”

All three of the Gryffindors laughed at this. “No, she wasn’t,” Ron agreed. Harry was pleased that Ron was clearly making such an effort to get along with Malfoy. And actually, it wasn’t that bad, Harry mused to himself. It was actually rather fun to have a new person in their little group to talk over their past memories with, especially when he came from such a different perspective than they did. Malfoy was also making an admirable attempt at civility, which Harry thought was pretty nice.

Ravenclaw scored several times in succession. “Well,” Malfoy said dryly, “looks like Finch-Fletchley has his work cut out for him. He’d better find that Snitch soon, or else it’ll be game over pretty quick.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. Harry was feeling vastly pleased with himself for having thought of the match for a first activity for Malfoy to do with them. If there was one thing Ron loved talking about, it was quidditch. “But he’s quite a good flyer, wouldn’t you say?” Ron pressed.

Malfoy studied the Hufflepuff thoughtfully. “Yeah, pretty good,” he admitted. “Especially for a – for someone who didn’t grow up with it,” he said, his pale cheeks flushing. All four of them realized that he’d been about to say something along the lines of “for a Mudblood”, or at least, “for a muggle-born”, and had caught himself out of deference to Hermione.

“A lot better than me, anyway,” Hermione said, making it okay. Malfoy relaxed and gave her a grateful look which she didn’t miss. “I can’t fly to save my life.”

Malfoy grinned. It was getting less unnerving. “Well, we all have to have something we’re not good at,” he said. “Makes up for you being so bloody good at everything else!”

They all laughed. Ron shot Harry a look, eyebrows raised, clearly impressed by the fact that they and Malfoy were all getting along.

When the match was finally over (Cho did end up getting the Snitch, and Ravenclaw won by a fair margin), the four of them walked back to the Entrance Hall together. When they got there, Malfoy stopped. “I go this way,” he said, indicating the flight of stairs leading down to the dungeons.

There was a funny pause. “Well, that was fun,” Harry said lightly. “We should hang out again sometime.” Ron and Hermione nodded encouragingly.

Malfoy looked round at all of them, and slowly nodded. “Sure. We can talk in Potions, or Care of Magical Creatures, maybe.”

“Potions is good,” Harry said quickly, and added, by way of explanations, “Fewer other Slytherins.”

Malfoy nodded again. “Okay. Well then, see you three in class tomorrow.” He turned and went quickly down the stairs.

“Good night!” Hermione called after him.

“Good night,” came Malfoy’s voice like an echo, trailing off into the distance.

Ron and Hermione turned immediately to Harry as they began making their way to Gryffindor Tower. “That was really good!” Hermione said excitedly. “He really seemed to get along with us okay!”

“Yeah, I never thought he could actually be okay to hang out with!” Ron said enthusiastically. “He’s really okay when he wants to be.”

Harry was glad that they were so enthusiastic. “And it’s kind of nice to have some fresh blood around, as it were, eh?” he asked. “It was cool, talking about Umbridge now that he’s mostly on our side.”

“Do you think he really is?” Hermione asked, looking sideways at Harry.

Harry nodded. “Yes. I’m sure he’s going to choose this way. And hey, it never hurts to have more friends does it, I – oh!” He broke off suddenly, catching a glimpse of Severus waiting at the end of the hallway leading to Gryffindor Tower. Ron and Hermione looked, too.

“Good night, Harry,” Hermione said firmly, pulling Ron with her, who seemed to be struck dumb at the sight of Snape in the vicinity of Gryffindor Tower, clearly waiting for Harry. They went through the portrait and into the common room, leaving Harry and Severus alone.

“Hello,” said Harry, grinning. “Aren’t we out of our usual habitat?”

“Insolent boy,” Severus said, smiling. He came forward from the alcove he’d been lounging in and folded Harry in a hug.

“It wasn’t bad at all,” Harry assured him. “Even Ron and him got along, just fine!”

“I could see that,” Severus said, still smiling. “And I’m really glad, for all your sakes.”

“He’s actually pretty nice, when he wants to be,” said Harry. “Just a bit confused right now, I guess.”

“Thank you for doing that, Harry,” said Severus quietly. “I know it will mean a lot to him, and it does to me, too.”

“I know,” said Harry, feeling wonderfully warm in the prolonged hug. It had indeed been cold outside. He looked up into the smiling face of his lover. “Let’s go downstairs.”

“Okay.” Furtively, hand in hand, they made their way down.


	14. Arguments

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize

 

Chapter 14: Arguments

 

Harry was wondering, as he made his way down to the dungeons the next morning, trailing slightly after Ron and Hermione, whether things with Malfoy might be a bit awkward today. Perhaps the Slytherin would regret having been so candid, or being publicly seen with Gryffindors, and them in particular, at all. On the other hand, Malfoy rarely did anything without thinking it through pretty thoroughly first. One never knew. They entered the Potions classroom, and as Harry knew they would be working in their assigned partners, took his now-usual seat next to Malfoy, who was already there.

 

Malfoy caught sight of Harry and began busying himself about the cauldron.

 

“Morning,” Harry said neutrally, avoiding eye contact and unpacking his own things.

 

“Good morning,” Malfoy responded precisely. He looked up quickly, silvery eyes meeting Harry’s just long enough to be courteous.

 

“How are you?” Harry asked carefully.

 

“Oh, fine,” Malfoy said, shrugging. But Harry wondered. There was something slightly amiss in the tone. He looked at Malfoy, waiting for further explanation and wondering still further if he would get any at all. Malfoy looked up again, catching Harry’s gaze. “Well,” he said, and seemed to weigh his words, “as fine as can be expected, I suppose, given that my… the other Slytherins in my year seem to think I’ve gone round the bend.”

 

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “About the quidditch match?”

 

“Yes,” Malfoy said simply. He shrugged again, shaking his sleek hair back from his face. He looked up at the blackboard, but Snape was not actually in the room yet, as Harry had instantly noticed, and there was no Potion listed on the board as of yet. “Where is he?” Malfoy wondered aloud. “He’s not usually late.”

 

Harry felt a blush rising in his cheeks. “He, uh…”

 

Malfoy gave Harry a pointed look. “Oh, Merlin, Potter, don’t tell me you just left his rooms within the past hour!”

 

Harry’s red cheeks answered this neatly enough, though he attempted to uncover a good reply nonetheless.

 

“Probably still in the shower, then,” Malfoy smirked.

 

Recovering his composure, Harry said impishly, “Well, he does take long showers.”

 

Malfoy laughed out loud, clearly taken by surprise, drawing strange looks from the other students around them. “I guess you would know,” he said, much more quietly than he had laughed.

 

Harry couldn’t help but appreciate how much subtler Malfoy was than, say, Ron – whose favourite pastime, as Hermione put it, was to blurt out sensitive information for all to hear. “I guess I would,” he answered cheekily, though his blush hadn’t quite faded yet.

 

Just then, the door at the blackboard-end of the dungeon swung open and Snape strode in, robes billowing. He looked ever so slightly dishevelled and rushed. Harry also noticed, to his secret delight, that his lips still looked rather puffy – and that Severus had chosen a rather higher-collared shirt than usual. Malfoy leaned over slightly and said, “I really must congratulate you, Potter; the man looks thoroughly fucked.”

 

Harry elbowed Malfoy hard. “Shut up, will you?” he whispered, grinning.

 

Malfoy laughed again. Snape looked up at them from the desk, where he was quickly arranging his things. He caught Harry’s eye, the telltale traces of blush, and Malfoy’s smirk, and an uncharacteristic blush crept into his own cheeks. “Settle down,” he said, meaning for it to sound more forceful than it did. “Or I will be forced to take House points, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter.” That was better.

 

Harry immediately stopped smiling and attempted to replace his expression with one of indignant horror. Though he couldn’t look too horrified, given that Severus didn’t usually threaten Malfoy, too.

 

“Really, Potter,” Malfoy muttered, “you’re bringing me down in this class. I never used to get threatened here!” But he was still smiling.

 

Harry could not remember a time when Malfoy had been so – so jovial. It was strange. But fine by him. In a way, it was rather odd, not to have this feud they’d always had. But definitely less complicated. Well, perhaps not. Malfoy’s whole position on the war was still hanging in the balance of this tentative new friendship. Harry realized that they would have to be careful with him yet; never presume too much with him, not get too familiar. Friendly. But not necessarily trusting. Severus was talking. The potion was on the board.

 

“I have all that stuff,” Malfoy said, stopping Harry from going up to the stores cupboard.

 

Harry stopped. “Don’t you mind, wasting all your own supplies when you could be using the free ones?”

 

Malfoy shrugged. “It’s not a waste. Severus probably needs them more than I do. My father is the one paying for these, anyway. I might as well use something he gave me.” There was the slightest stress on the word something, accompanied by a strain of bitterness in Malfoy’s voice.

 

Harry just nodded, reached for Malfoy’s container of Doxy essence and checked the measurement on the board. “Okay.”

 

After class, it transpired that several Slytherins were waiting for Malfoy. Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise Zabini. All with their arms crossed. Harry, Ron and Hermione were with Malfoy as they were leaving. Harry heard Ron curse softly under his breath. They waited, hanging back in case Malfoy got attacked or something.

 

“Malfoy,” Zabini said casually. “Long time no see.” There was definitely accusation in his voice.

 

“Let me point out that I’m in seventh-year Potions, which none of you qualified for,” Malfoy said shortly.

 

“It’s not about the fucking class, Malfoy,” Zabini retorted.

 

“Then tell me what it’s about and get out of my way.”

 

“Draco,” Pansy attempted to coo, hampered greatly by her whiny, nasal voice and general ugliness, “we’ve been missing you. Where’ve you been lately?” She crossed the corridor and put her hand on his hand.

 

Malfoy shoved it off abruptly. “Don’t touch me. Where I go is my business and who I choose to go there with is as well. Don’t presume to dictate my activities.”

 

“Cut the crap, Malfoy,” Zabini shot. “What the fuck was that, last night?” He threw dirty looks at the three Gryffindors. “Since when do you hang out with Gryffindorks?”

 

“Go fuck yourself, Zabini!” Malfoy hurled the phrase both with elegance and force. “Did you hear what I just said?”

 

“Draco,” Pansy simpered, though still looking hurt, “we’re your friends. We just want to be with you.”

 

Malfoy didn’t answer for a moment. He appeared to be thinking. Harry could almost hear his conflict. Before he could say anything, though, Ron did.

 

“Leave him alone,” Ron said roughly. “He can make up his own mind about who he wants to be with. If he wants to sit with someone else for a change, that’s his prerogative. And we’re just talking about a quidditch match here! Get a grip!”

 

Crabbe growled audibly, and Goyle’s hands fisted.

 

“Nice,” Harry said to them, raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t even know what do without Malfoy to instruct you – or is Zabini taking over there?”

 

Zabini gave Harry an appraising look. “You want to watch yourself, Potter,” he said in a dangerous tone. “Bear in mind that we know Malfoy a good deal better than you, won’t you? We’re rather more familiar with… where his loyalties lie.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry shot back, “right along with saving the world, winning the quidditch cup and keeping myself alive for the duration of seventh year.” He turned on his heel and strode angrily down the corridor, feeling Malfoy, Hermione and Ron right behind him.

 

“Nice one, Harry,” Ron said approvingly, once they’d put some distance between themselves and the Slytherins.

 

“That creep, Zabini,” Hermione said witheringly. “He’s probably all pleased that he gets to be the new ringleader anyway.”

 

Harry knew that the Slytherins were lousy friends to Malfoy anyway, but he wasn’t sure how Malfoy was feeling at the moment – for all Harry knew, Malfoy might not have even appreciated their input into what he might have preferred to be a private interview. They reached the Entrance Hall.

 

Malfoy caught Harry’s sleeve as the Gryffindors turned automatically toward the staircase to head to the Charms corridor. “I have Transfiguration,” Malfoy said.

 

“Oh – right,” Harry said, wondering if he should say something about the confrontation. “Malfoy – ”

 

“Thank you,” Malfoy interrupted quietly. “Thanks for defending me.”

 

Harry felt surprise cross his features. “Oh – don’t worry about that,” he said, feeling uncertain. Ron and Hermione were waiting at the top of the stairs. He grinned, trying to lighten the moment. “It’s not like I’m not used to confrontations with Slytherins.”

 

Malfoy smiled, too, but didn’t laugh. “No one’s ever done that for me before,” he said in the same quiet voice.

 

That took Harry’s grin off his face. “Well, they should have,” he said. “I know that Crabbe and Goyle don’t count.”

 

“No, they don’t,” Malfoy agreed. He looked up the staircase, to where Ron and Hermione were still visible. “Thank you, too, Weasley,” he called.

 

Ron looked thoroughly startled in the dim light illuminating his pale, freckled skin. “Oh! It – it was nothing,” he stammered. “It’s fine – like Harry said, we’re used to that sort of thing.”

 

“But it means something to me,” Malfoy told him. He nodded curtly at Hermione. “Hermione.” He turned and took another corridor leading off the Entrance Hall.

 

“See you later,” Harry called.

 

“Right,” the Slytherin’s voice floated back.

 

Harry jogged up the steps to catch up with his friends, both of whom were looking at him wide-eyed. “Changed some, hasn’t he?” Ron said.

 

Harry nodded. Forgetting they couldn’t really see that as they were walking quickly so as not to be late for Charms, he said, “Yes. I told you he had.”

 

“You were right,” said Hermione, patting Harry’s arm. “If we’d known that just being decent to him would change him that much, we could have avoided all this stuff we’ve had with him for the past six year.”

 

“No,” said Harry, frowning slightly. “I think it had to be now. It’s the right time.”

 

“You’re probably right again,” Hermione conceded. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

 

After Charms, it was lunch. The three Gryffindors retraced their steps to the Entrance Hall, to find Malfoy lounging casually against the wall beside the double doors. As they approached, he pulled himself off of it.

 

“Did you go to Transfiguration?” Ron asked, raising his eyebrows. Whatever else you could say for Malfoy, he rarely skived off classes.

 

“Of course,” Malfoy responded easily. “I just got back here quick. Er – I wanted to ask a favour.”

 

They exchanged glances. “Do you want to sit with us?” Harry asked, putting his finger on it.

 

Malfoy looked grateful at not having had to say it himself. “Would the rest of your House mind?”

 

“Does it look like we generally care about other people’s opinions?” Ron asked, grinning.

 

Malfoy had to laugh. “No. Okay. I get it. Noble Gryffindors and all.”

 

Harry punched him lightly in the arm. “Git. Come on, I’m starving.”

 

There was a ripple of murmuring as people saw Malfoy entering with the Golden Trio, rising to a crescendo as Malfoy walked past his own table and coolly sat down beside Harry, across from Hermione. Heads turned their direction. Harry decided to deal with it straightaway. “Look, all you lot,” he said, addressing the Gryffindors closest to them, which included Seamus, Dean, Ginny, Neville, Lavendar and Parvati, “Malfoy’s going to sit with us sometimes, okay? He’s here with our – ” Harry nodded toward Ron and Hermione – “invitation. So try to be decent, alright?”

 

There were looks of curiosity and surprise, but no one said anything bad. Dean reached across Harry and held out his hand. “Dean Thomas,” he said, in case Malfoy didn’t remember the name. “Welcome to the table.”

 

“You’ll probably notice that we get the shiniest plates,” Seamus added, reaching across the table to shake Malfoy’s hand as well. Malfoy shook both hands, nodding, cheeks faintly tinged with pink.

 

“Thanks,” he said simply, and looked at Harry, who shrugged and grinned.

 

At some point during lunch, Harry caught Severus’ eye at the staff table, and was rewarded by seeing the look of surprise on the older man’s face. Severus raised an eyebrow and looked deeply impressed and pleased, and smiled at Harry. Malfoy also happened to look up, following Harry’s line of vision, and also received a cool smile from his godfather. Feeling rather pleased himself, he returned his attention to his lunch. It was a rare thing when people were not disappointed in Draco Malfoy, and he was going to savour it when it happened.

 

* * *

 

Sometime later, Harry let himself into Severus’ chambers. The parlour was empty. “Severus?” he called, going back into the bedroom. It was not empty. Harry drew in his breath. His lover was lying naked on the black silk sheets, arms draped casually above his head with a grace and elegance that most men could never achieve. He gave Harry his curving smile, and said nothing.

 

“Wow,” Harry said, staring hungrily at the beautiful sight.

 

“Don’t just stand there,” Severus said lazily. “Take off your clothes.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Harry set down the silvery bundle of invisibility cloak he was holding, toed off his trainers and bent to pull off his socks. Then he decided to make it a little more fun. Slowly, he began to unbutton his school robe, keeping his eyes on Severus’ onyx gaze, which glittered in the candlelight. The fastenings were open. Harry pulled the sleeves back, let the robe drop to the floor and let it lie there. Now the tie. It unknotted easily, was drawn softly away from the collar and fell to the floor. Harry started unbuttoning his shirt and let it slip off his shoulders slowly, agonizingly slowly. He knew that candlelight became his tanned skin perfectly, sculpted from quidditch and Defense training, nipples already firm in the cool of the room. Severus did not move, but Harry noticed that he was hard already. Harry undid his belt, eyes still locked on Severus’ eyes. He slid the zipper down and stepped out of his pants. The bulge of his erection tented the front of his boxers. Harry turned his back on Severus and slowly pulled the boxers down. When he turned around again, full-on erection swinging around with him, he heard Severus’ sharp intake of breath. He waited.

 

“Come here.” Severus’ voice was hoarse with desire.

 

Harry walked slowly toward the bed. “How do you want me?” he whispered, his own voice thick.

 

“I’ll show you. Come here.” Severus motioned Harry to join him on the bed.

 

Harry crawled forward, bending over his lover, dropped his mouth down where it was dissolved in a fiery kiss. He touched the tip of his cock to Severus’ erection, and they both shivered. Severus’ hands ran up the length of Harry’s arms, pulled him down into another kiss. Their shivering erections touched lightly, touched against, length rubbing down length. “Turn about,” Severus said, making a pivoting motion with his finger. Harry complied, straddling Severus’ torso backwards. Those pale, long-fingered hands took Harry’s hips and gently drew him backwards, back, until suddenly a warm mouth was taking him, covering his erection with warmth. Harry gasped aloud. It felt different this way. Amazing. From his vantage point, it was perfectly easy to do the same in return. He bent forward and and took Severus into his own mouth, was rewarded by his lover’s moan, hips bucking upward into him. With one hand, Severus gently held Harry’s balls, and Harry mimicked the motion, loving how it felt. With their mouths occupied, the only sound in the room was both their muffled moans. Harry gave a groan. The warm sensation was rising, he felt like he was rising into the air. He was going to come. He came, hard, hips shooting forward against his volition, and he cried out, his mouth still full of Severus. It seemed that that particular sensation had an effect on the other, who came right then, too, shooting white foam into Harry’s waiting mouth.

 

They lay still, panting, for a moment, but despite its undeniable effectiveness, the position was not particularly comfortable. Harry gently drew himself out of Severus’ mouth and turned himself around, settling himself into the crook of an elbow, nestled along Severus’ side. “That,” he said emphatically, “was amazing.”

 

“Thank you,” said Severus, eyes glinting snarkily. “I’ve been planning that since lunch.”

 

“Wow,” said Harry, smiling against the nipple his mouth was caressing. “Is this a reward for officially having befriended Malfoy?”

 

“Perhaps,” said Severus cagily. “I’ve been wanting to try that for some time now, as well.”

 

Harry laughed, and Severus thought he had never heard a more beautiful sound – the sound of one’s young lover, basking in the bliss of afterglow in the warmth and security of a stable, committed relationship. “I love you,” Harry said.

 

Severus held him tighter. “I love you, too.”

 

“Severus.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I want you to do something for me.” There was an intensity to Harry’s voice which he was obviously trying to mask somewhat.

 

“I thought I just did,” Severus replied cheekily, but wondering what was coming.

 

“Git.” Harry pinched his nipple lightly. “I’m serious.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I want to go with you, next time you have to go and spy.” Harry didn’t move, and Severus didn’t open his eyes, but he could feel Harry tense a little as he waited for the answer.

 

Severus shook his head. “No. No, Harry, I cannot permit that. You know this.”

 

Harry said stubbornly, “I want to come. I’m not afraid.”

 

“It’s not a question of being afraid. You’re too important to the war to risk your life like that.”

 

“So you are risking your life,” Harry said at once. There was a stubbornness to his sudden mood shift that Severus recognized as sounding difficult to overcome.

 

“You know that, too.”

 

“I could watch out for you. I want to be there, to protect you if you need it,” Harry said. “I want to be there, by your side, like you’ll be when I finally have to face Voldemort.”

 

“That’s different,” Severus said lamely. “This I cannot allow. I will not willingly put you in danger.”

 

“My whole life’s in danger,” Harry said forcefully. “Going with you on one of your spy missions will hardly change that!”

 

“No, Harry. Besides, Dumbledore would never permit it, either.”

 

“I don’t care about Dumbledore! I care about you!” Now Harry propped himself up on one elbow to look down at Severus, who felt the change.

 

“Remember what I warned you of, back during your Occlumency lessons?” Snape asked. “That people who let other people matter too much to them make themselves easy targets for the Dark Lord.”

 

Harry was stung. “Are you saying you matter to me more than I matter to you?”

 

“No!” Severus was alarmed. He had not meant to imply that. “No, Harry, I love you!”

 

“But you don’t consider me your equal.”

 

“Did I say that?”

 

“No, but it’s fine for you to tell people you’ll protect me in my battles, but that I can’t protect you in yours. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?” Harry accused angrily, pulling away.

 

“No, it is not what I mean, nor what I said,” Severus said, starting to get angry himself. “I just – ”

 

“You just what?” Harry said, rolling off the bed and going to where his garments lay scattered.

 

“Harry, come back.”

 

Harry said nothing, but dressed himself about ten times faster than he’d undressed. His fingers were shaking and he eventually gave up trying to button his shirt, settling for fastening half of the robe hooks.

 

“Harry, come on. Don’t go.”

 

He picked up the invisibility cloak. “Good night, Severus,” he said stiffly, and left the room.

 

“Harry!” Severus shouted. “Wait!” But the door to the main chamber had closed. He fell back, tears pricking humiliatingly at his eyes. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous in this pose. He extinguished the candles and cleaned himself. He would just have to deal with this in the morning, or the following evening, more likely.


	15. Decisions

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing at all, except some ideas

 

Chapter 15: Decisions

 

Harry’s furious pace had slowed to a morose walk. He really did not want to go back into the Gryffindor common room, as it was still fairly early – no more than nine o’clock or so. He moved off in the direction of the Entrance Hall, thinking that perhaps he would go down to the lake and think. He was starting to feel distinctly embarrassed at his childish storming out. Way to keep a person impressed with your maturity. Despite having befriended Draco Malfoy. Harry shivered. The night was cool again, and the soft sounds of rippling water met his ears. And speak of the devil. A small, lithe figure was sitting at the shore, leaning against a boulder, arms wrapped about his insubstantial frame.

 

“Malfoy?” Harry asked softly, walking up behind the other.

 

Malfoy’s head snapped around, wand whipping out. He hesitated. “Potter?” he asked finally.

 

“Oh – yeah, sorry.” Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off his face. “Hi.”

 

“Should’ve known it was you,” Malfoy muttered, stowing his wand away. “Well, Potter, what brings you out here?” His voice was dull, but he gave Harry a quick look of slight concern.

 

Harry bit his lip, and sat down on the pebbles a few feet from Malfoy. The breeze was coming up his robes, blowing into the cracks left open by the half done-up buttons of his shirt. He shivered again. “Just a fight,” he muttered, looking away.

 

“A fight?” Malfoy looked at him. “With Severus?”

 

Harry nodded, still watching the water.

 

“What – what was it about?” Malfoy asked, adding quickly, in tribute to their newfound friendship, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. But if you want to talk about it, you can.”

 

“It’s just…” Harry bit his lip again. “I, well, maybe I overreacted.” He fell silent again.

 

“To…?” Malfoy prompted gently.

 

“The thing is, I don’t know how much I can say,” Harry said finally. “It has something to do with the Order. The thing is, Severus goes on these really dangerous missions sometime, and he won’t let me come with him. But he expects me to let him fight with me when the time comes, you know, with Voldemort.”

 

Malfoy considered this. “Hmm,” he said. “I can see why you’d be pissed off. What did he say, exactly?”

 

“Well, we talked about it before, once, maybe a month ago, and he said he just didn’t want to put me into any unnecessary danger and all that stuff, you know, about caring about me too much, et cetera, but now it just makes me think that he doesn’t see us as equals, that he thinks I’m not capable of protecting him the way he can protect me.”

 

Malfoy made a thinking noise. “For anyone else’s relationship, I’d say that was true,” he said, squinting at the moon. “But you’re you. You’re Harry Potter. You can’t just be careless with your life.”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“I know. But don’t you see what I mean? You literally are the hope of the entire wizarding world, and of the non-magical world, too, if they only knew it. You have a duty to the rest of us to watch out for yourself, and, like he says, not get yourself into any unnecessary danger. Severus obviously knows that you’re talented, powerful, capable, all of that. It’s just the Voldemort thing.”

 

Harry thought about this. “Do you really think that’s all there is to it?”

 

“Yes,” Malfoy said firmly. “He loves you. He respects you. I know it. Not only has he said it, I can feel it. I’ve known him for a long time. Not like you, of course,” he added quickly. “But I can add my vote to everyone else’s, and say that you’re my entire hope for any sort of future, too.”

 

Harry gave him a surprised look. “Since when do you engage in Boy-Who-Lived worship?” he asked sardonically.

 

“It’s not,” Malfoy said. “It’s true. I’ve made up my mind, Potter. And my father will, quite literally, kill me once he finds out.”

 

“You’re going to join us?”

 

“What else could I do?” Malfoy asked in a low voice. “I may be a little prick, but I know what’s right.”

 

Careful not to let on that he’d overheard Malfoy’s conversation with Severus in the office the other day, Harry said, “I’d always pegged you as a picking the winning side kind of a guy.”

 

“I was, up until recently.” Malfoy’s voice was even.

 

“What changed?”

 

“I think you Gryffindors are rubbing off on me,” Malfoy said, smiling slightly. “It occurred to me at lunch today that about ten people were nicer to me, who they knew to be a jerk, than any of my so-called friends have ever been. Oh, I know they did all the right stuff, but none of it was ever genuine. Besides, you can’t even converse with Crabbe and Goyle, as you must realize, and Zabini’s pure evil and I hate Pansy. You and Ron and Hermione have done more for me in two days than anyone else has ever done, including my own parents. Well, and Severus, too. I’ve just been sitting here, since dinner, thinking about all of this, and I think I really have no choice, unless I want to sell what soul I have completely.”

 

He looked suddenly so barren, so haunted, that Harry was almost tempted to touch him, reassure him in some way. “You have a lot of soul, Draco,” he said, choosing the name deliberately.

 

Malfoy looked up suddenly at this, silver eyes reflecting the waxing full moon. “I hope so,” he said, and gave a shaky laugh. Then, “Is it okay if I call you Harry now?”

 

“Definitely,” Harry assured him. “If we’re going to be friends, let’s be friends for real.”

 

“I guess that means I have to call Weasley by his name, too.”

 

“Yes, it does,” said Harry firmly, but Draco was smiling.

 

“I think I can handle it,” he said.

 

“How will you keep it from your father?” Harry asked, serious again.

 

“I am supposed to be taking the Mark immediately after graduation,” Draco answered, the smile slipping from his face. “I just won’t leave school. Either I’ll stay with Severus – don’t worry, I’ll leave when you come around – ” Draco grinned – “or I’ll go wherever go guys are going. Wherever Order people go. I’ll talk to Dumbledore tomorrow, or maybe him and Severus both, and I’ll join whenever you and your friends are joining.”

 

“And your friends, now, too,” Harry reminded him.

 

“Right. My friends,” Draco repeated, the words sounding foreign to him. “Sound like a plan?” He looked at Harry.

 

“Yeah, it does,” Harry said, feeling heartily sorry for Draco. “I’m sorry it has to be like this for you, Draco. That you have to be in so much danger, just to do what’s right.”

 

Draco shrugged elegantly. “You have even more danger, and that’s just for trying to stay alive. It’s all relative. Come on, let’s go in, it’s bloody cold out here.”

 

Harry agreed, standing up immediately. They began to walk fairly briskly back to the castle.

 

“So, you alright, then?” Draco asked curiously. “Are you going to go and talk to him?”

 

Harry thought about it. “Yeah, I guess I should. I just feel a little embarrassed now, you know? Overreacting and all.”

 

“Let me guess. You stormed out in a fit of rage, half-dressed and trying to be all cold.”

 

Harry grinned despite himself. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Gryffindors. Honestly.”

 

“I’ll make it up to him.” They were at the doors.

 

“I don’t even want to think about how,” Draco groaned, rolling his eyes again. They took the stairs leading down into the dungeons together. Draco took a turn just before the corridor where Severus’ chambers were. “I’m going to bed,” he said. “I’ll just talk to him tomorrow – you two probably need to be alone. See you.”

 

“See you,” Harry said, then added, “Thanks for listening, Draco. It helped.”

 

“You should talk about your feelings more often,” Draco said simply. At Harry’s look of confusion, he added, “You always bottle it all up. I can tell. And… thanks for everything, Harry. I’m glad we’re on the same side at last.”

 

“Me too,” said Harry, smiling. “You’d’ve made a scary Death Eater.”

 

“Don’t remind me! Good night!” Draco turned and went his went, leaving Harry alone in the corridor.

 

He went and quietly let himself into Severus’ apartments. It was all quiet and dark. He was probably sleeping. For a moment, Harry debated with himself, then decided that Severus wouldn’t mind being woken for this. In the parlour, in the low light of the embers still blazing in the fireplace, Harry shed his clothes for the second time that night, left them all there and slipped softly into the bedroom. Severus was indeed sleeping, his bare chest gleaming like chiselled marble in the moonlight. A troubled look creased his handsome features, and Harry felt a pang of remorse. He had fallen asleep still feeling badly over Harry’s sudden departure. Harry moved across the room, lifted the blankets and slid over to cradle Severus’ body with his own. He slipped his arms around Severus and kissed his arm and shoulder gently.

 

Severus stirred and woke. “Harry!” he whispered groggily, but his voice sounded relieved. He twisted around in Harry’s embrace to face him.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Harry murmured against the pale, silken skin of his lover. “I was such a prat, I’m sorry, Severus.”

 

“You came back.”

 

“I had to, I had to come back and tell you how sorry I am. I totally overreacted. I understand why.”

 

“Do you?” Severus stroked the hair back from Harry’s forehead, gently caressed his face.

 

“I do,” Harry assured him. “I’ll respect it. I love you, Severus. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

 

“I promise,” Severus said instantly, his arms tightening around Harry. “I promise. You are what I live for, you know. I won’t take risks unnecessarily. They never see me, anyway, I’m too good.”

 

Harry smiled, and Severus traced his smile in the dark. “Good thing,” he said, suddenly very sleepy.

 

“How far did you get, before you realized you’d been a prat?” Severus asked teasingly.

 

“The lake,” Harry said. “I didn’t want to go back to the common room yet, so I went to the lake, and Draco was there, so we talked.”

 

“Draco was there?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “He was thinking. He asked what I was doing there, so I told him about this, and he pointed out that you’re absolutely right, and then we talked about him. He’s decided, you know?”

 

“Has he?” Severus asked, in a tone of immense relief. “I presume you mean he’s decided to join us?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Harry said. “He’s planning to tell you and Dumbledore tomorrow. He – he thought we might want to be alone tonight.”

 

“Insolent boy,” Severus growled, though his hand was very soft in Harry’s hair.

 

“You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?”

 

“Of course,” Severus said. “I have been very worried about him for the past few years. You and your friends may have been his salvation.”

 

Harry nodded. “He pretty much said that himself. I’m glad. He’s a nice guy, and he deserves better friends.”

 

“You can leave off the better,” Severus said.

 

“Yeah, I meant to, sorry. He needs friends. And now he has some, so I’m glad. And he’ll be really good on our side.”

 

“Yes, that is my hope,” Severus said. “I am very glad that you and he are no longer at odds, especially given… this,” he said, running his hands down Harry’s side, landing on his hip bone. “You two and Dumbledore are my favourite people here. It is vastly more convenient for my favourite people to like one another.”

 

Harry laughed softly, his eyes closed. “Well, I’m just so pleased that it’s all worked out for your convenience,” he said, kissing Severus’ chest.

 

Severus gazed fondly down at Harry’s still face. “I love you,” he said.

 

Harry hugged him hard, wrapping both arms and both legs around Severus’ body. “I love you, too.”

 

Their bodies were touching now, from chest to knee, feet tangling, sole on sole. Though he was extremely sleepy and happy, Harry felt stirrings of desire. And so, apparently, did Severus. Their erections met and bumped. “Harry…?” Severus trailed off.

 

“No, I’m not too tired,” Harry answered, laughing. He rolled onto his back. “Do you want to fuck me, or should I fuck you?”

 

“Whose turn is it?”

 

“I can’t remember. You fuck me, I like that.” Harry drew his knees waist high, allowing Severus to settle his body between them.

 

“Are you – ?”

 

“I’m ready. Go.” Harry’s hands were on his ass, dragging him down. Their mouths met, they shared their breath between them, tongues jangling. Severus entered Harry slowly, waited for the expected gasp of pleasure, mingled with a bit of pain, then began to move slowly. The edge of pain melted away, and Harry was gasping, his erection nearly vertical against Severus’ taut stomach. “Deeper!” Harry managed to get out, and Severus was obedient, his own breathing laboured and rasping. They came at the same moment, Severus’ warm come filling Harry in that still-strange but not-unpleasant sensation; Harry’s come spraying out over both their bodies.

 

Harry’s hands were on his face now, pulling it down for a last good night kiss. “I love you,” he said again. “I’m sorry about before.”

 

“It’s over, Harry, forget it. I love you, too.”

 

They disentangled themselves most of the way from one another, but lay back with their arms still wrapped around each other. “Good night,” Harry breathed, sleep stealing over him.

 

“Good night, my love. Go to sleep.” Severus stroked that stubborn curl that hid the thin scar on Harry’s forehead back, let his hand travel a soft path down Harry’s face, coming to rest against his chest. Feeling his heartbeat there, real and solid beneath his fingers, he allowed himself to sleep, too.


	16. A Meeting

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters; Joanne K. Rowling does

 

Chapter 16: A Meeting

 

The next day, Harry did not see Draco at all. The Gryffindors and Slytherins had no classes together that day, and Draco did not appear for any meals. Well, at least not lunch and dinner – Harry had not been at breakfast. According to Ron and Hermione, they had not seen Draco, but that did not mean he wasn’t there. Although Harry suspected the Slytherin was keeping a deliberately low profile. Harry wondered where he was, and if he was alright. He wasn’t with Snape, who was at the staff table for both meals. The day passed uneventfully. Harry, still tired from being up so late the night before, had gone to bed early, after a quiet round of chess with Ron, leaving his homework for the next day. Or the day after.

 

In the morning, Harry woke feeling somewhat more refreshed. For a moment he wondered where he was; it was not easy keeping track when he woke up almost equally in two different places. He got to his bed in Gryffindor most nights; it was fairly infrequent when he started them out there, however. He was becoming a master of stealth-in-one’s-invisibility-cloak mode. Only once had Harry encountered someone leaving the dorm as he was entering. He smiled to himself over breakfast at the memory; Parvati had been quite embarrassed. He wondered if Seamus knew; he and Dean were very good friends. Harry mused, noting in passing that Draco was not at breakfast again.

 

“Harry?” Harry looked up, realizing that Ron had already called him once, by the sound of his tone.

 

“Yeah? Sorry.”

 

Ron rolled his eyes. “I asked you what we have now.”

 

“Oh – ” Harry struggled for a moment. “Transfiguration,” he said at last. He checked the clock on the wall above the staff table. “I guess we’d better go.”

 

Hermione was already waiting for them by the doors, having gone ahead to have a word with Professor Flitwick. “Come on,” she scolded.

 

“May I have a word, Harry?” came a familiar voice from behind them, accompanied by a light hand on Harry’s shoulder – a light hand which nonetheless radiated both power and beneficence. There was only one man in the whole of the wizarding world like that.

“Dumbledore,” said Harry, turning quickly in his surprise.

 

“You may go on,” Dumbledore told the other two, “as Harry while be awhile. You may tell Professor McGonagall not to expect him this class, though I expect she will remember.”

 

“Oh – okay,” Hermione said, taking Ron by the elbow. “See you later, Harry.”

 

“See you.” Harry turned to the Headmaster. “What is it?”

 

“I just wondered if we could have a talk in my office.” Dumbledore said. His tone was neither pleased nor displeased. He began to walk, clearly expecting Harry to follow, which he did. As they arrived at the twin gargoyles which guarded the way to the staircase leading into Dumbledore’s office, Harry realized that he had not yet been in this office this year. He didn’t even know what the password was. Knowing Dumbledore’s penchant for candy, Harry watched him expectantly.

 

“Iced pumpkin juice!” Dumbledore said proudly, eyes twinkling at Harry as he watched for his reaction.

 

Harry had to laugh. Trust Dumbledore to be unexpected. Trust Dumbledore to suddenly come out with a random bit of silliness when Harry was expecting quite a serious talk. Trust Dumbledore to give a serious talk nonetheless. He followed the older wizard up the stairs. As they entered, Dumbledore wordlessly waved Harry to his usual chair and asked, “Tea?”

 

Harry nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

 

Tea appeared. “Harry, I just wanted to talk with you about a few things, which in the end are all related. First of all, though, how are you? I have not had the opportunity to speak with you yet this summer – not since summer, in fact.”

 

Harry smiled. He remembered that meeting fondly, though he hadn’t felt very fond at the time. “I’m doing really well, sir, thanks. It’s been a good few months.”

 

Dumbledore smiled, folding his long fingers in front of him on the desk. “I trust that much of this good feeling is a result of your relationship with Severus,” he said, and it was not a question.

 

Harry blushed despite himself. “Well, yes, sir,” he said, trying to sound as though he discussed his relationships with older men who happened to be his teachers with his Headmaster all the time.

 

“Relax, Harry. I am perfectly aware of the situation and am fine with it. You two have proven to be very discreet, and I know you are both better off this way. I often wondered if you would ever be able to overcome your mutual animosity, and wondered if so, if you would not end up being very good friends. You are more alike than you realized then – though I am quite sure that you have by now.” His eyes twinkled at Harry again.

 

Harry smiled. “Yes,” was all he said.

 

“It is fairly serious, then?”

 

Harry looked at his hands. “Yes,” he said again. “Yes, it’s… it’s very serious, sir.” He met Dumbledore’s eyes. “We’re in love. We love each other. We want to stay together.”

 

Dumbledore nodded, and though he was not smiling now, the light glancing off his piercing blue gaze was very bright. “Yes. I can see that,” he murmured, almost more to himself. Louder, he went on. “It would be right for that to happen,” he said firmly.

 

Harry was surprised. “You think so? Sir?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Dumbledore assured him. “Yes, I think you would do each other very well. Now. The other thing I wanted to talk about. Draco Malfoy.”

 

“What about him?”

 

“I am aware that you and he have become friends,” Dumbledore said.

 

“Well, yes, and Ron and Hermione, too.”

 

“Naturally,” Dumbledore smiled gravely. “Of course. Has Draco talked to you lately?”

 

“Yes. Well, the night before yesterday,” Harry said. “Has he talked to you yet?”

 

“Yes,” Dumbledore answered, watching him intently. “Did he tell you that he plans to join the Order and fight with us?”

 

“Yes,” Harry said, wondering where this was going. Surely Draco had not changed his mind. He didn’t think he could stand it if he did. It would sting somehow, very deeply. It would be just as awful if Ron or Hermione turned – but he could never imagine them doing such a thing, he had never had reason not to trust either of them. But Draco was another matter. Harry did not want to be disappointed in him.

 

“It’s alright, Harry,” Dumbledore said calmly, clearly gauging Harry’s sudden doubts. “He told me the same thing. Do you trust him?”

 

Did he trust him? Malfoy. Harry had to think about that. “We’ve only been friends for a few days now,” he said cautiously.

 

Dumbledore waved this aside. “But you have formed an opinion, a judgement, by now.”

 

“I – I think so,” Harry said uncertainly. “I mean, I want to. I’m not totally sure that I do yet, but I’d really like to be able to.” He gave it some more thought. He had talked to Draco about his relationship with Severus with as much – actually more ease than with Ron, even though he knew Draco knew about it already. Harry felt confident that the Slytherin would not betray his trust either of the times they had talked about it. And then, the other night, by the lake, Harry had had no doubts about telling Draco about the fight, or talking about it with him. It was almost easier to talk to him because he knew Severus better than Ron or Hermione, by far. And yet. Should he trust him so readily?

 

Dumbledore was watching him keenly. “I trust him, Harry,” he said. “I just wanted to see how you felt about it. I know that it must be difficult, considering your personal history with him, and of course with his father. I was very curious when I sensed your animosity dying away, almost since the very beginning of the year. I wondered if Draco might be changing.”

 

“I think he has definitely changed a lot,” Harry said. “He’s not at all the same. I think he’s known for awhile that joining the Death Eaters would be really wrong, but he wasn’t sure how to get out of it safely, or whatever.”

 

Dumbledore leaned back and finally took a sip of his tea. “He has not gotten out of it safely,” he said, his eyes still on Harry. “Of course, we will be doing our best to delay the moment when Lucius finds out. We are attempting to postpone that moment until June, when this school year ends. That is when Draco will officially join the Order, along with yourself and your friends.”

 

“Will he be safe until then?” Harry wanted to know, still ignoring his own tea.

 

“This is what I am less sure about,” Dumbledore said. “He tells me he is no longer welcome in Slytherin House, since befriending you and your friends.”

 

“We – I befriended him, sir,” Harry confessed, feeling guilty.

 

Dumbledore shook his head. “He would not have become friends with you if he had not wanted it already. Had it never occurred to you that he was extremely jealous of your close friendships with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger?”

 

“Well, yes, but not until just recently,” Harry admitted.

 

Dumbledore smiled. “You see what I mean, then. I am uncertain as to what to do with him, to be honest. I don’t think he needs further isolation; he is quite adept at isolating himself without my help, and I don’t think it is particularly good for him. Would he be welcome in Gryffindor House, do you think?”

 

“Actually,” said Harry, though trying to imagine Draco’s elegant and expensive things in the messy seventh-year Gryffindor boys’ dorm (littered about with Chudley Canons, West Ham Football League and Gryffindor House quidditch colours and themes, not to mention all the socks), “Draco ate lunch and supper at the Gryffindor table yesterday, and people were really nice to him. They talked to him just a bit, not too much so that he’d be uncomfortable, but people welcomed him and stuff. That might not be a bad idea.”

 

“Hmm. Well, I have asked him and Severus us in a few moments, so we’ll see how he feels about it then. There is another matter which I need to discuss with all three of you as well, so I’ll ask you to stay once they arrive.” There was a sound of footsteps outside the door. “Ah.” Dumbledore rose and opened the door, and Harry caught the nanosecond-long look of surprise on Severus’ face before was replaced by the usual I-should-have-known look.

 

Severus came in and sat down on a chair next to Harry, dragging it slightly closer than was absolutely necessary. Draco followed, looking small and somehow vulnerable. To Harry’s surprise, Severus took his hand, lacing their fingers together, though his attention appeared to be on Draco and Dumbledore, who were exchanging low words. Then Draco dragged another chair forward and sat down on Harry’s other side, near the fire. He nodded quickly at Harry but didn’t say anything.

 

“Hi,” Harry said back. “How’ve you been?”

 

Draco shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “I’ve been hiding – or at least, that’s what he says,” he said, jerking his pointed chin toward Severus. A glint of a smile was tugging at his mouth.

 

“And have you been?” Harry asked directly.

 

Draco shrugged again, more elaborately. “Sort of. I just wanted some more time to think on my own.” He looked at Harry, who nodded, understanding.

 

“Now.” Dumbledore took his seat again. “First things first. Draco, I seem to recall that we left the matter of where you are going to live for the remainder of the year for another day. It has become another day. I have just been talking to Harry, and he seems to feel that you would be made welcome in Gryffindor House. What are your feelings on this matter?”

 

Draco looked at the old man’s lined face. “Would I be re-sorted?” he asked. Harry marvelled privately at the fact that this was the first question he asked.

 

“I think not,” Dumbledore said, frowning slightly. “However, there is a simple way to determine that.” He stood and brought the Sorting Hat down. He handed it to Draco, who hesitated, then slipped it onto his head. After a moment, he silently took it off and gave it back. “Well?” Dumbledore asked.

 

“It – it said I could be either,” Draco said, looking at the carpet. “It said that being in Gryffindor would help me on the way to greatness, but that it was my choice.”

 

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who gave him a small smile, and then at Severus, whom he’d told about his own experience with the Sorting Hat back in first year. Severus had a knowing look on his face, slightly amused.

 

“Harry?” Dumbledore said.

 

Harry realized he was being prompted. “That’s what it said to me, in our first year,” he told Draco. “It said that Slytherin would help me on the way to greatness, but that if I was sure I wanted Gryffindor, it would put me there, and it did.”

 

Draco looked at him, impressed. “I didn’t know that!” he said.

 

Harry shrugged. “I wasn’t very proud of it at first, especially given the events of our second year.”

 

Draco remembered. What a git he’d been that year, too. He shuddered slightly, and looked at Harry squarely. “Do you want me in your dorm?” he asked pointedly. “Would the rest of them?”

 

Harry shrugged again. “Well, Dean and Seamus and Ron are all decent to you, and as long as you’re nice to Neville, he’ll be nice back. I’m not sure how much you’d have in common with them – our room is filled mostly with sports stuff – and socks,” he added, throwing a quick look at Severus, who rolled his eyes, though he didn’t take his fingers out of Harry’s. “But you’d be safe and they’d be nice to you. I’m sure of that.”

 

“Draco?” Dumbledore prompted, when Draco was silent.

 

He looked up from his pale, twisting hands. “Okay,” he said quietly.

 

“Do you feel alright about it, Draco?” Severus asked, leaning forward to see past Harry.

 

“I feel fairly good about it, actually,” Draco said. “Harry’s right, they are being nice to me. They would probably try pretty hard, despite whatever differences we might have. Have had,” he amended. “And I don’t really need any more time alone.”

 

Harry and Dumbledore exchanged the briefest of fleeting looks, both impressed with Draco’s self-perception.

 

“Good, then,” the Headmaster said briskly. “It seems that that is settled. You may move in immediately. I will arrange for another bed and drawers straightaway. This brings us to a more serious matter, which is that of your safety, Draco.”

 

Draco was silent again. Severus looked at him worriedly. “Draco. You should be okay here. You know that, do you not?”

 

Draco nodded. “I’ll stay here for Christmas,” he said quietly. He looked at Harry. “You usually stay, don’t you?”

 

Harry hesitated. True, he did usually stay, but for the last two years, he had gone to Grimmauld Place. Surely Dumbledore would let Draco come? He looked at the Headmaster, who nodded. “Actually,” he said, “last year we went to Gr – ” a feeling like a hand clamping over his mouth overcame him, and Harry recognized the effects of the Fidelius Charm, which would not allow anyone but Dumbledore (the Secret Keeper) reveal the location of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix – “to where the Order hangs out,” he said instead. “You can come there with us.”

 

“Who else will be there?”

 

“Oh, you can probably guess. The Weasleys, well, not Percy, but the rest of them, Lupin, me, Ron, Hermione, Tonks – she’s an Auror, you probably don’t know her – sometimes Dumbledore, when he’s around, other people like that.” Harry looked at Severus, who nodded, too. “And Severus,” he added.

 

“Okay,” Draco said again.

 

“In the mean time,” Dumbledore resumed, “there is a war beginning. Severus tells me that you know about the Prophecy, so you surely understand Harry’s role in this matter. He will need his friends, though, and you, Draco, have a great deal of talent and skill. Because of this, and also because you will be an especial target of the Death Eaters yourself come June, I would like for you, Harry, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger to start some extra Defense and duelling training in preparation. Professor Snape – ” Dumbledore’s eyes turned to Severus, flickered down to his and Harry’s joined hands – “and Professor Lupin will be overseeing your training, as well as myself from time to time. For the duration of the year, Professor Snape will still act as your Head of House, perhaps along with Professor McGonagall – yes, I think that is best – and, of course, your godfather. Do you have any questions?”

 

Draco was silent for a moment, trying to digest all of this. He looked up, his light eyes catching the firelight. “What if Lucius finds out?” he asked quietly.

 

Dumbledore looked grave. “We will count on him not finding out,” he said, “but if that should happen, I can assure you my protection, Draco. You will also have people around you more often now – and Gryffindors are generally quite trustworthy,” he added. “Professors Snape and McGonagall will also keep their eyes out for you, and so, I am sure, will Harry and his friends. Are you afraid?”

 

“A little,” Draco said, but he looked at Harry with wide, guileless eyes. “I trust you,” he said.

 

Harry smiled, squeezing Severus’ fingers. “I trust you, too,” he said.

 

“Good, both of you,” Dumbledore said approvingly. “Now. Your training will begin on Monday evening, in Professor Lupin’s classroom. Harry, I will expect you to pass this on to Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. If anyone asks the three of you what you are doing, you are to say – ”

 

“Remedial Potions?” Harry blurted, grinning, not able to hold it back.

 

Severus laughed loudly, and Dumbledore chuckled, too. “What?” asked Draco, looking from one to another, confused. “Why is that so funny?”

 

“That is what Harry was told to say when he was studying Occlumency with me in your fifth year,” Severus explained to him. “He was not permitted to say.”

 

A look of comprehension dawned on the Slytherin’s face. “Ohhhh,” he said. “I remember that! I – never mind,” he added, clearly having been about to add a remembrance that might have come across as quite rude.

 

“Don’t worry,” Harry said quickly. “It was a good line, since I was hopeless at Potions.”

 

“Indeed, you were,” Severus drawled, in a fairly good imitation of his old sneering tone.

 

“Well, I can see how your interest level changed,” Draco drawled straight back at Harry, looking pointedly at their hands.

 

Harry just smiled serenely, feeling Severus’ grasp tighten rather than pull away. “I’m glad you understand,” he said, sounding snarky. “So, what are we supposed to tell people? We’re good at everything now!”

 

“Just say that it is extra lessons,” Dumbledore instructed. “That is very much the truth in any case. Monday night at eight o’clock. Is that alright? Good. You may go, all of you.” He gave them a warm smile and they got to their feet, Severus letting Draco and Harry go by first.

 

At the bottom of the stairs, Draco checked a nearby clock. “Our second class is nearly over now, too,” he said. “What should we do now?”

 

“I suggest you both go to lunch early,” Severus said, before Harry could respond. “I see no point in disrupting a class this late at any rate. I will see you both in Potions later on.”

 

“Okay,” Harry and Draco both said. Severus leaned forward and kissed Harry on the cheek, turned and was gone.

 

Draco smirked at Harry. “Ah, young love,” he said, pretending to swoon. “What a beautiful thing.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” Harry said, shoving Draco playfully into a wall.

 

“Ow! Leave me alone! Save that for your snog-sessions!” Draco grinned, pulling himself off the wall.

 

“I do,” Harry grinned back.

 

“Okay, grossed out now, don’t say anything else or you’ll ruin my appetite!” Draco ran forward so as to avoid Harry’s next hit.

 

“Git!” Harry shouted, laughing. “Why are you so happy all of a sudden?”

 

Draco shrugged. “I guess I’m glad I’m moving in with you guys,” he said. “The Slytherin dorms never really had that homey, Gryffindor-y feel to them that yours always sounded like they did. I think it might be fun. And I’m relieved I’ve made up my mind at last. Dumbledore made me see that I actually won’t be nearly as alone as before, and I’ll probably be safer this way anyway.”

 

Harry hadn’t realized this, but it made sense. “Oh. Okay, then, let’s go to lunch. I’m hungry.”

 

On their way into the Great Hall, Harry and Draco noticed Cho Chang heading outdoors with her broomstick. “Hey, Harry, why’s she’s still here?” Draco asked. “I always wondered. Did she fail seventh year last year? I thought you might know.”

 

Harry shot him a Look, but said, “No, she didn’t fail, exactly, but she didn’t get any NEWT’s at all, and apparently her parents were quite upset, so they sent her back.”

 

Draco snorted. “Works out nicely for Ravenclaw in terms of quidditch, though, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yeah. Bitch,” Harry said forcefully, as a joke.

 

Draco laughed. “Well, you or I will stomp her into the ground, won’t we?” He considered this. “If my team doesn’t stomp me into the ground in the showers or something.”

 

“Hmm,” Harry said. “Dumbledore didn’t mention quidditch, did he? I mean, I guess you’re still going to the same classes and everything, so I guess you still get to play quidditch on their team. Well, you’re a way better Seeker than ever of them could be, so they’ll probably leave you alone just for that reason.”

 

Draco nodded. It made sense.

 

After lunch, which Draco ate at the Gryffindor table again (to a few raised eyebrows, but no comments other than a few “hi”’s), Harry told Ron and Hermione about their training session on Monday night. As he’d expected, they were both pleased and excited to be included, and very pleased about Draco’s decision. Hermione surprised them all by running after Draco, where he’d turned off to go to Astronomy, and throwing her arms around him. Luckily, there was no one else around. Draco went very pink, but looked quite pleased and actually hugged her back – muggle-born blood and all. Things had changed, and Harry was happy. He practically skipped as he, Ron and Hermione made their way down the hall, bickering jokingly about Hermione and Draco’s hug, which, in Ron’s opinion, had lasted far too long. He was kidding, though, to Harry’s devout relief – Ron jealous was not something he ever wanted to see – and they made it to class without further incident.


	17. Christmas

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine

 

Chapter 17: Christmas

 

Harry woke up on his side, wondering where he was. He opened his eyes and looked blearily around. Where was he? It didn’t look familiar. He patted around for his glasses.

 

“You know, that is really just too cute,” a voice drawled from behind him, causing Harry to nearly jump out of his skin.

 

He whipped himself around, still glasses-less. “Severus!”

 

“You were expecting someone else?” The drawl was still there, which likely only meant one thing.

 

But Harry wasn’t going to give in just yet. “No,” he said, adding “git,” absently, still trying to recall recent events that would put him somewhere that was neither his bed in Gryffindor Tower nor Severus’ bed. Then the familiar, musty, old smell hit his senses and he remembered. “We’re at Grimmauld Place,” he said at last.

 

“Bravo,” said Severus, clapping his hands sarcastically.

 

“You’d be confused, too, if you kept waking up in a different bed every other night!”

 

“And it’s my fault, that I’m so irresistible, is it?” Severus made a play of examining his fingernails. “Besides,” he added, “I doubt you’ve slept in Gryffindor Tower since about November sometime.”

 

Harry grinned, though still squinting blurrily. “Naps count.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Well then, it is your fault for being so bloody irresistible.” Harry drew a very light line down Severus’ chest, down to his navel, which he circled, touched lightly, then continued. The blankets were in the way. No matter. He let his finger trail below the blanket where they touched… Severus’ boxers. “I’m insulted,” Harry told him.

 

Severus had hardly been breathing. Now he exhaled loudly. “For what?”

 

“Sleeping in my bed and not being naked,” Harry said, pretending to pout, though he couldn’t keep it up – it dissolved into a grin. He was terrible at trying to pout.

 

“First of all, Mr. Potter,” Severus said, in that low, dangerous voice that Harry so loved to hear, “this is my bed. Technically, or at least as far as Molly knows, you share a room with Ron one floor down. You chose to join me, which means that I can wear whatever I want.”

 

“I chose to join you?” Harry repeated incredulously, fingering Severus’ left nipple. “Yeah, sure, if ‘choosing’ is the same as being dragged bodily up three flights of stairs, stripped bare and shagged senseless!”

 

Severus smiled widely. “It had been a long time.”

 

“Yeah, a whole four days,” Harry snorted, though he had to admit, he’d been dying for it, too. The past month and a half had been nothing but classes, training, quidditch, more training, classes, and so forth. Obviously, Harry had not allowed this to interfere with his nightly visits, which were fast becoming simply nights, period, with Severus, but the penalty was that he was extremely tired much of the time. Finally, during the tests right before Christmas break, Harry had actually been too tired for sex. For the first time in his life. He’d held Severus off (who was perfectly understanding), saying that in four days the term would be over, they’d be at Grimmauld Place and could shag themselves blue in the face for the entire break. Severus had agreed quite readily, let Harry study and drift off in his arms.

 

And then they’d arrived, been overly fussed over by Molly Weasley, traded jokes and stories with the twins, whom Harry hadn’t seen since summer, all while Severus had hung back and tried to pretend that he had nothing better to do than be there, because otherwise he certainly didn’t want to be staying. Ron and Hermione, though understanding the need, felt badly for him and had tried to include him, but he brushed off their attempts, subtly letting them know that it was better to simply leave him out for the time being. Harry had felt it and resented the silliness of it all, and wanted not much more than to rush straight upstairs with Severus. All through dinner (they sat across from one another), Harry had had to remind himself not to just sit there and stare at Severus, drown in his dark eyes, but seek out others in conversation, talk to Lupin about the Defense lessons.

 

Draco he didn’t have to worry about. Draco had been amazing over the past weeks. He’d finally opened himself up and really let himself be friends with Ron and Hermione. He’d settled into Gryffindor just fine; as Harry predicted, the other three and Ron were fine to him, and Draco was polite about the mess, the silly sports paraphernalia, and even the socks. He simply kept his own things as neat as possible, and, unbelievably, the others started being a little cleaner, too. Draco didn’t spend much time in the dorm itself, but he could often be found in the common room, often soliciting others’ company. Harry had never realized that Draco was such a chess freak – and he was good enough to give Ron a run for his money, which was great. Harry had never been much good at chess, and was glad to have a reason to give it up, and Ron was thrilled to have someone good enough to challenge him to play with. Hardly a spare hour went by that Ron and Draco didn’t have the chess set out, arguing over whose set they would use this time, while Hermione looked on or read nearby.

 

But after dinner had been another story. Severus had lurked downstairs, talking to Lupin, Arthur, Molly and Tonks, while Harry ostensibly settled into “his” room. Harry had basically gone up, put his basic things down, then went upstairs to the room Molly had indicated was to be Severus’ and put his more important things away there. Impatient, he went back down to wait in his and Ron’s room. He had just reached the landing outside their door when he heard footsteps ascending the stairs in front of him. The ghostly face of his lover emerged from the gloom of the stairwell. For a moment, Severus just stood there, watching Harry from two steps below the landing. Then they ran at one another, mouths attacking, hands scrabbling wildly, legs twisting together. Ron had chosen that precise moment to open the bedroom door, where Draco and Hermione were sitting on “Harry’s” bed, their faces agape.

 

“Oh, mother of Merlin, get a room!” Ron had groaned, looking both horrified and disgusted.

 

“That’s the general idea,” Severus had panted, and seized Harry, half-pulling, half-dragging him up the next staircase. Harry had felt like his legs had turned to water from sheer desire anyway, so this was probably a good thing.

 

Now Severus smiled again. “Four days too long,” he said. “That must have been a record for us.” His fingers began to draw soft patterns on Harry hip bone, little circles and lines. Harry shivered. “And I’ve not had nearly enough of it yet.”

 

Harry gave his a lazy smile, though his eyes were going hazy already. Although perhaps that was the lack of glasses thing. “Where are my glasses?” he asked, slurring.

 

“I took them off you last night so they wouldn’t get broken. They’re over on the dresser. Do you want them? Because I’m just going to be taking them off again right away.”

 

Harry laughed softly. “Better leave them,” he agreed. He pulled himself up so that he could look down on Severus. “You know,” he said, his voice still soft, pausing to suck at the nipple he’d been fingering, “I do believe that it’s my turn.”

 

Severus raised his eyebrows, apparently thinking. “Well… I suppose it was me who went last,” he admitted. “It’s hard to keep count.”

 

“In general, or just last night?”

 

“Just last night,” Severus laughed. He raised his arms above his head in the helpless, sexy pose that Harry got off on so much, let his legs fall open. “Take me, love,” he said. “I’m all yours.”

 

“That’s what I want to hear,” Harry said in a low, predatory tone of voice. He took his wand from the night table beside him, pointed it at Severus’ boxers and vanished them. It was an art he’d perfected. He looked around, but before he could ask, Severus silently handed him the small bottle of lube from the night table on his side of the bed. Harry took it just as silently and poured out a liberal amount, rubbing it in his hands and onto his aching erection. Merlin, one would think he had gone for months without sex, not just eight hours. He pushed Severus’ pale, firmly muscled legs upward, looked him straight in the eye, and slowly entered him. Severus maintained his silence, but shuddered at the touch. He did not break the eye contact.

 

Harry placed one finger over his mouth, silently instruction him to stay silent. They did this sometimes, just for fun. It made things more intense. Harry pulled himself out slightly, then entered again, harder. Then another, deeper, deep enough to brush against that sensitive spot inside his lover. Who let out just a bit too much air with his exhale, shuddering again, hands digging into Harry’s hip bones. Harry pushed in again, and began to move faster. Severus’ breath was leaving him in little explosions. Harry’s was, too. He drove in deep, all the way, pushing against that place that made Severus writhe, as he always did for Harry, as Harry always did for him. A tiny hint of growl came out with this exhale. Severus was trembling with the effort of staying silent. Harry picked up speed, and had to fight to keep from howling from the sheer intensity of the pleasure that was spreading sweetly all through him, making his toes curl, his fingertips tingle. Severus’ erection was rubbing along Harry’s hard abdomen, hard as anything, and crimson, and Harry crunched himself over far enough to suck it, just once. Severus’ nails dug little circles into Harry’s back, breaking the skin. The pain was almost enough to send Harry through the ceiling with ecstasy. Harry did it again, and Severus gasped and came hard. Harry took that particular moment to drive one more hard shot to Severus’ prostate and let himself go over the edge, wanting to scream from the fury of pleasure consuming his every nerve. He collapsed against Severus, panting and sweaty, and Severus pressed him to his chest, pinning him there with his arms.

 

“Sweet Merlin, that was amazing,” Harry breathed.

 

“I had no idea you were that flexible,” Severus said. “I think I’m seeing stars.”

 

“Don’t tell me that’s the first time!”

 

“It isn’t.” Severus kissed Harry’s forehead firmly, with tongue. “How long do you think before we’re hard again? I want to see if I can do that.”

 

Needless to say, they did not make it down to breakfast.

 

By the time they did make it down, both of them walking a bit stiffly for the first time in some time, both their faces were sucked and bitten raw. Harry touched his top lip gingerly, wishing he knew a spell to make the swelling go down. He made a mental note to himself to punish Severus for doing that to him while they were staying here. They entered the kitchen, where Draco, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were eating lunch. Hermione turned bright red, and the tips of Ron’s ears were glowing. Even Draco looked a bit embarrassed, and he did not embarrass easily when it came to the sex lives of others. Thank the skies above it was just them. Ginny knew by now; Hermione had told her. She had seemed completely unfazed by it.

 

“Good morning,” said Ron.

 

“I think you mean good afternoon,” Severus said, not missing a beat. His voice held that undeniable trace of morning-after smugness. If it got any worse, Harry bet he’d develop a strut to go with it.

 

“Oh, Merlin,” Ron groaned to the others, “listen to how pleased with himself he sounds!”

 

If Severus was surprised by this sudden lack of formality, he didn’t let it show. He was more interested in lunch. Harry just grinned at them, still marvelling at what a tension-reliever that was. He felt great.

 

“He’s clearly no better,” Hermione said. “Look at that afterglow, would you? Honestly!”

 

“Never mind the afterglow, look at his lips!” Ginny practically shrieked. Ron looked, and groaned again.

 

To everyone’s surprise, he then looked at Severus and said, “I really hate to think that you’re responsible for that. I’ve always tried to avoid the mental images, but after yesterday, I have no choice!”

 

Severus merely smiled, not looking at all abashed. “Perhaps you should learn to keep your door closed,” was all he said.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Ron said, grinning back by way of apology. “So, Harry, are you actually staying in that room at all?”

 

“No,” Harry replied. “Only if your mother – or father – or the twins – or anyone else asks.”

 

“Harry, are we still the only people who know about you guys?” Ginny asked. Harry thought.

 

“Dumbledore,” said Severus.

 

“Right, Dumbledore,” said Harry, nodding.

 

They all nodded, including Draco, who already knew, of course. “So, does that mean you’ll take the rest of your stuff out of our room?” Ron continued. He grinned wickedly. “I mean, I realize you were otherwise occupied last night – which is, by the way, perfectly understandable, we’ve had exams, it’s good stress release.” Hermione glared at him. “ – or so I’ve heard,” he added lamely.

 

Ginny looked revolted. “Gross,” she said.

 

“I quite agree, Ginny,” Severus said, looking quite revolted himself. “Though I am hardly in a position to say so.”

 

“Like you just didn’t,” Draco snorted.

 

“Ewwww… now you’re talking about positions,” Ron moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

“Did you just call me Ginny?” Ginny asked Severus, looking very confused.

 

“Yes. And – ” Severus glanced at Harry, who nodded and smiled encouragingly, “ – I think, while we’re here, on holiday, you should all just call me Severus. I would feel really strange if you referred to me as your professor in this situation.”

 

“Sure, Sev,” Draco shrugged. After all, he’d been calling his godfather by his given name for years.

 

Severus gave him an annoyed look. “Not ‘Sev’, or anything else as stupid as that. ‘Severus’. And that hardly applies to you, anyway, Draco.”

 

“Fine, Professor,” Draco grinned. Severus gave him a death glare. “Whoa! Sorry! Not the death glare!”

 

They were all laughing. Harry felt completely relaxed. Exams were over, he and Severus were together for their first Christmas, and all his best friends were here. Though he shuddered to think how much fun the twins would have once they found out about the relationship. Good thing they weren’t going to know until after the war, or so they all hoped. Every single person there appreciated the fact that Fred and George must not, under any circumstances, find out about Harry and Snape.

 

“Severus,” said Ron experimentally, sounding doubtful. “Well, I guess that’s what we’ll be calling you after another five months, anyway. Why not.”

 

Severus smiled. It was looking like a good Christmas for him, too. Luckily, Molly was, though extremely kind, not particularly keen on that particular uptake, clearly had no idea that Hermione was planning to share Ron’s room until returning to school (as she likely shared his bed at school anyway, this came as a surprise to no one). In his current romantic mood, Severus wondered idly if the stars had designs on putting Draco and Ginny Weasley together. Not that he even knew if Draco was straight; it was impossible to tell with the boy. Well, he’d become a different person – a better version of the old shell of himself that he had been presenting to the world for the past seventeen years – so maybe he’d open up about that now, too. Time, clearly, would tell.

 

Meanwhile, Harry was saying to Draco, “Don’t mind him, he’s just mad because it turns out he’s not quite as flexible as me.”

 

Draco grinned while Ron groaned. Severus gave Harry his patented death glare, and growled, “Oh, boy, Potter, you are going to pay for that later. You are really going to be sorry you said that!”

 

“Bad mental images, bad mental images,” Ron was muttering, rocking back and forth slightly. Hermione leaned over and whispered something in his ear, something which seemed to take quite some time, but which made Ron look suddenly very happy again. He got up very quickly. “Well,” he said abruptly, “that was lovely. See you all soon.” He grabbed Hermione by the wrist and practically dragged her off the bench, and they scrambled upstairs, giggling madly.

 

“Clearly they liked your use of the term ‘flexible’, Harry,” Draco commented.

 

“So it would seem,” Harry replied, grinning at Ginny for no reason at all. She looked at him, then looked at Draco. Hmm. He suspected that, despite all odds and appearances, that Draco was actually straight. Maybe. Ginny had grown very pretty during her six years at Hogwarts, and as Draco was particularly sensitive to aesthetics, perhaps it could work. Perhaps he should try to get them together. He felt he owed her that much, as she’d liked him so long, and then he’d not only not liked her when he still thought he liked girls, but then it turned out that he liked boys, anyway. Double insult. Well, not boys so much as men, or man, in particular. Harry also noticed that things had grown suddenly very quiet at the table. Draco was looking at Ginny, looking like he was trying to say something, or perhaps waiting for them to be alone to say it.

 

Harry couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the possibility before today. Brilliant, Potter, brilliant. He took Severus’ hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go outside or something. Let’s go to Diagon Alley and do our Christmas shopping.”

 

“Okay,” Severus said readily, and allowed himself to be pulled up. He was lucky he hadn’t broken a rib, before, and he was feeling a bit stiff now. Note to self, he thought, thirty-seven-year-old men who have previously not been sexually active for the past thirty-six-and-a-half years should not go attempting stunts that their accursedly flexible seventeen-year-old lovers did. “You owe me a drink,” he said bitterly.

 

“Come on, love,” Harry said teasingly. “You can show me where all the restricted potions are sold, and we’ll have some fun.”

 

Severus closed the door behind them.

 

* * *

 

“What are you thinking about?” Draco asked finally, breaking the long silence that had followed those damnably cheerful lovers. Wonderful. He was trapped in a house surrounded by four frivolously fucking people on holiday. It wasn’t really that bad. Just his inner snark-a-logue talking. But back to the point. He was alone in the room with Ginny, and suddenly inexplicably nervous. Why wasn’t she talking? Should he be saying something?

 

“I was just thinking,” she said at long last, “about how much you’ve changed.”

 

Draco dropped his eyes self-consciously. He had changed a lot. He hardly recognized himself, in fact – which was good, it was all good – but some days he felt he hardly knew who he was any more. Though, since he’d hated who he’d been, there was no telling how it could go from here. He was still, saints be praised, still as snarky as he’d ever been – which, oddly enough, made him strangely popular amongst the Gryffindors – but without the mean streak. “Is that good?” he asked.

 

Ginny studied him. “I was remembering how you used to call me the Weaselette.”

 

Draco turned furiously red at this. He had forgotten that completely. “I forgot about that,” he muttered, looking away. “I’m sorry, Ginny. Why didn’t you say something before?”

 

“Before when?”

 

“Before now!”

 

“Because you were a prat then,” Ginny said defensively.

 

“No, I mean, like, last month or something!”

 

Ginny shrugged, looking self-conscious. “It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly. “You’re different now, it’s okay.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Suddenly Ginny laughed. “It’s going to be a riot over Christmas here, eh? With four people madly shagging everywhere.”

 

“Yet somehow attempting discretion,” Draco laughed, too, “and trying to keep it all from your mother!”

 

“Well, they managed in summer,” Ginny said, “though if Harry and Snape were as – as enthusiastic then, they certainly used good silencing charms. I didn’t even know about it until about a month ago.”

 

“You didn’t?” Draco wondered at this. Harry must be very good at keeping secrets if he’d managed to keep this one from Ginny all this time. Then again, they were all sure that she didn’t know what they were doing on Monday nights, either.

 

“Nope. Ron says it started at the beginning of August, here.”

 

“This is where they got together,” Draco breathed, realizing. “That is so strange. And they managed for a month without anyone finding out.”

 

“Well, apparently Dumbledore was making them have meetings to get over the hate thing, and apparently they went quite well.”

 

“Right from the start?” Draco could hear his own incredulity.

 

Ginny nodded. “That’s what Ron said Harry said. It started out tense and then they talked seriously, you know, about Harry’s dad and his friends and all that, and then, suddenly, they were snogging.”

 

“And then shagging?”

 

“No, they apparently managed to hold off on that until their third meeting,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes and smiling.

 

“Oh, pardon me,” Draco said, mirroring her. “I guess all that hostility over the years was just pent-up desire.”

 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Ginny said.

 

“Well, they hadn’t… for at least three or four days at the end of term there,” Draco said. “No wonder they were practically biting their nails off during dinner yesterday.”

 

“Oh, I know!” Ginny exclaimed. “You could practically feel the air pulsating between them.”

 

Draco laughed. “I guess it went really fast partly because of the war and everything. You know. Harry. The Prophecy.”

 

“Yeah,” said Ginny, growing sober. “Not knowing if either of them are going to live through it and all that.”

 

“Because it’s not just shagging,” Draco told her, “they’re really, really in love. They’re both kind of restless if the other one’s not around, and they had a fight once, and I talked to Harry just after it, and he was totally miserable. Once he realized he’d been a git, though, he couldn’t wait to get back with Snape.”

 

“He made up with him the same night?!” Ginny sounded amazed.

 

“Yep. I saw him going to the apartment.”

 

“Weird,” Ginny said.

 

“Yeah. But they mean it. I know they want to stay together after the war, if there is an ‘after the war’.”

 

“Do you think they’d get married?”

 

“Oh, I think so. Probably, yeah. I can’t even imagine either of them with anyone else any more.” Draco got up and made some tea, boiling the kettle instantly – a neat little trick he’d learned from Lupin. “Want some tea?”

 

“Love some.”

 

“Gin,” Draco said, his back to her as he made the tea, “can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“You and Neville… are you in an on-again or an off-again thing right now?” Draco turned and brought the two steaming cups back to the table and took his seat across from her again.

 

Ginny bit her lip and hesitated. The truth was, she didn’t really know. They’d fought last time they were together. Neville had been another one who’d changed dramatically. During his sixth year, he’d gotten drastically better at everything, taller, better-looking; he no longer wore glasses and his gran had gotten him a more powerful wand, by way of rewarding him for having survived the Death Eater confrontation in the Department of Mysteries that day, when Sirius died. They’d had this little thing going on ever since, but they fought a lot, and every time they fought, it seemed very much like the end of everything between them. “I don’t know,” she said at last.

 

“Fight?” Draco asked simply. He knew. Of course he knew. He was terribly perceptive.

 

To her horror, Ginny felt her eyes fill with tears. She clamped her hands firmly around the warm cup of tea, willing the tears not to spill over. She could not speak.

 

“Gin!” Draco said softly. “I’m sorry, I should’nt have – ”

 

Ginny shook her head fiercely; it was no good pretending anyway. The tears slipped down her face. “It’s okay,” she insisted. “I’m sorry, Draco, you ask me a simple question and I just fall apart. I – yeah, we had another fight, and I don’t really know what’s happening.”

 

Draco patted her hand in an uncharacteristically gentle manner, even despite his change. “Don’t worry, Ginny, it’ll all work out. It always has before, hasn’t it? And I’m not going to hit on you,” he added. She looked up very suddenly at that, blushing in that transparent, Weasley way. “Just in case you were worried,” he explained. “Just because everyone else in this house is doesn’t mean we are or will or have to. Let’s be friends.”

 

“O – okay,” Ginny said, hiccoughing. “That sounds good to me.” She smiled at him, and Draco smiled back. They drank their tea.


	18. New Year's Eve

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: don’t own what you recognize

 

Chapter 18: New Year’s Eve

 

The next two weeks were the best Harry had ever lived. The house had been free of all pestilence since the previous spring, which made living there a lot nicer. Also, there was no more house-cleaning to be done, and Mrs. Weasley’s feats of household magic were sufficient to the task of keeping things going. So, it was like something of a retreat with all of his favourite people. Except Dumbledore, who had not been able to join them even for Christmas. He had said something about trying to get there for New Year’s, though, and they were having a party, so Harry hoped he would try to make it. They had not invited many people, but a party was a party. The main people Harry wanted there were already there, anyway. Dumbledore, Moody, Tonks, Emmeline Vance, Kingsley Shacklebolt and his wife, Fred and George, who would no doubt bring Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet with them, Mundungus Fletcher, Bill and Charlie Weasley. Harry thanked all their lucky stars that Bill had broken up with Fleur Delacour the year before. All he needed was for her to turn up and start mesmerizing the entire room, possibility getting herself hexed into oblivion by Hermione.

 

Though Harry had been watching Draco and Ginny hopefully, they seemed to be getting along very well, but nothing seemed to be happening. He reminded himself that most relationships didn’t happen as fast as his and Severus’, but that had been years in the making, they were both sure. Like Ron and Hermione, only more hostile than them at their worst. Of course, there was also the whole gay thing; Harry had to realize he was gay before it could happen. But Draco. Harry wondered. Was the Slytherin straight or gay? He just seemed so… neutral, somehow. No doubt it was part of the mask he still kept carefully over his finer feelings, despite his more relaxed and open exterior. Harry looked around. It was the afternoon of New Year’s Eve. He decided to go and see what Draco was doing. Severus, he knew, was in Diagon Alley buying new robes. Black, no doubt.

 

Harry went in search, and found Draco by himself in the room everyone still called “Harry and Ron’s”, though it was really Ron and Hermione’s. The room across the hall, which was technically “Ginny and Hermione’s” was now just Ginny’s. Draco’s room was down the hall from Harry and Severus’ room. Luckily, Molly never came into the rooms, especially not Severus’, for if she had, she would have found Harry everywhere. Not just his belongings, but little personal effects, including a tiny, framed picture of him and Severus kissing, which they had gotten Hermione to take for them. The room downstairs was a public student room of sorts during the day. Harry went to look there first, and was not surprised to find Draco sitting on “his” bed (unoccupied), leafing through a muggle comic book with apparent bemusement.

 

“Hi,” he said, coming in and settling himself on Ron’s bed. “What are you doing?”

 

Draco shrugged. “Nothing, really. Waiting for the party.”

 

Harry laughed. “It’s only two-thirty.”

 

“So? Where’s Severus?”

 

“Diagon Alley, buying new robes,” Harry said, rolling his eyes affectionately. “Want to bet thirty Galleons they’re black?”

 

“No,” Draco shot back, “you can’t afford to lose it.”

 

“Yes I can.”

 

“No you can’t.”

 

“Yes I can.”

 

“Fine, you can. Stupid Potter inheritance,” Draco muttered.

 

“Good thing he looks good in black.”

 

“Potter, you would think he looked good in a tea-towel, house-elf style.”

 

Harry envisioned it. “Ooh, and then I could free him, by giving him a thong or something, and then he’d be begging for ways to repay his debt to me – stop that,” he said, grinning, as Draco made exaggerated retching sounds and motions.

 

“Remind me never, ever, to say anything like that to you again. Or anything else you might be able to make a sick, twisted fantasy with.”

 

“Draco, can I ask you something?”

 

“No thanks, Harry, I’m not really interested in a three-way with you and my godfather,” Draco drawled.

 

“Shut up, you git, I’m serious.”

 

“What?” Draco’s silver-grey eyes focussed on Harry.

 

“What are you? Like, are you straight or gay? I’m just wondering.”

 

Draco surveyed him calmly. “Why are you wondering?”

 

“Pure curiosity.”

 

“What if I told you I didn’t know?”

 

“Are you serious?” Harry asked incredulously.

 

Draco studied his fingernails calmly. “Damn, a snag,” he said, scowling. “Yes, I’m serious.”

 

“Does no one do it for you, or everyone?”

 

“More the first,” Draco said casually. “Although I used to think I had a crush on Ron, actually.”

 

“On Ron?”

 

“Sure, why not? He gets so cute when he’s mad.”

 

“Do you still?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you mean that, or do you mean no, as in, there’s no point because he’s straight and dating someone who is now also one of your best friends.”

 

“Again, more the first.” Draco shifted, finding a more comfortable position for his back again the wall. “I just haven’t really been interested in anyone lately. Too cold, maybe. Too confused. I probably shouldn’t get into a romantic involvement with anyone, given my current mental state.”

 

“You’re still confused?”

 

“Well, not exactly confused,” Draco said, frowning slightly. “But it’s been a lot of change in a little while, you know? I’m not sure I know who I am. Not that I ever did, but now it seems to matter. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

 

“And you’re not even sure which gender is more to your liking?”

 

“Actually,” Draco said, and it sounded like a confession, “I’m pretty sure I’m straight. I think I was trying to do the gay thing because I knew it would antagonize my father. That was, of course,” he added bitterly, “before I realized that even if I was really gay, if he ever found out, he’d Crucio me to death.”

 

“Would he really?” Harry asked, remembering Severus’ reluctant confession about some of Lucius’ activities as a Death Eater.

 

“You’d better believe it, Harry. I’ve heard rumours from my father’s friends, and I know what he’s done, but that wouldn’t change it. An openly gay son. What a blow to the Malfoy pride. That’s probably half why I tried to force it on myself.”

 

“But now…?”

 

Draco sighed. “Now I’m just not sure. I mean, I think I’m straight, but it’s not something I lie awake worrying about. It just doesn’t really matter.”

 

Harry looked at his friend, feeling sad. He wished there was a way he could express how much love had made his life better without it sounding corny or patronizing. But he did have another question. “What about Ginny?” he asked quietly.

 

“What about her?” Draco was extremely non-committal, the thumbnail of his left hand picking at the tiny tear in the thumbnail of his right hand.

 

“You seem to get along really well.”

 

“So. I get along with you and Ron and Hermione really well, too, and I’m not fucking any of you.”

 

Harry gave him a Look. “Draco,” he said. “You know what I mean. She’s sweet, she’s really pretty, she’s very talented, you’ve seemed to be spending a lot of time with her – although I guess that could just be by default, sorry – but she’s also – ”

 

“In love with Neville,” Draco supplied. His voice sounded a bit dull, and he stopped picking at his thumbnail.

 

“What? I thought that was over,” Harry said. He hadn’t thought Neville would still be in the way of his scheme.

 

“Well, they had a fight. You know they always get back together again. And besides, she still has feelings for him. She cried when I asked her about them.” Draco bit at the thumbnail, apparently trying to see if he could smooth the tear with his teeth.

 

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling both disappointed and sad for Draco. Somehow, he suspected that the other had already considered the question of Ginny in some depth. “But you like her?”

 

Draco fidgeted. “I think so,” he said finally. “At first I thought maybe I just liked her because she was like, well, not really I mean, but sort of, you know…”

 

“The female version of Ron?”

 

“Yeah, something like that. But she’s not, she’s totally different, and – and I like her more than I ever liked Ron,” Draco mumbled, cheeks flushing. Now his delicate fingers picked at his robes.

 

Harry felt intensely sorry for him. All the rest of it, plus this. “Well, frankly, Draco, I don’t know if Ginny and I view men the same way, but if we do, she has to see that you’re a much better catch than Neville.”

 

“He’s a Gryffindor. And they have history.”

 

“So? You’re building your own history with her right now. And you’re practically a Gryffindor now, anyway. I don’t really think that Neville’s mature enough to sustain a relationship of the kind of magnitude that Ginny would need, that’s why it’s not working,” Harry said. “Prove yourself to her.”

 

“How am I supposed to do that?” Draco demanded. “I just told her, at the beginning of the holidays, that I wasn’t going to hit on her and that we could just be friends.”

 

“Well, that was silly, now wasn’t it?” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Just try and see, okay?”

 

“Harry.” Draco’s voice was quiet.

 

“What?”

 

“Do you really think she’d ever – ever go for me, of all people? I mean, why not Seamus or Dean or someone? A Ravenclaw?”

 

“First off, she’s dated all the worthwhile Ravenclaws, plus a few non-worthwhile ones as well, she’s already dated Dean, plus he’s with Parvati now, anyway, Seamus is just a whore, and, as far as decent guys go, you’re the next most logical choice.” Draco still looked unconvinced, so Harry went on. “And come, you’re really hot, talented, smart. She’d be a fool not to.”

 

Draco snorted. “You think I’m hot?”

 

“In a small, blond sort of way, yes,” Harry said casually. “Not really my type, though. You know I prefer tall, dark, and – ”

 

“Spare me,” Draco interrupted. “I really don’t need the imagery. Okay. I’ll think about it.”

 

“Follow your heart,” Harry said, knowing Draco would probably hit him for it.

 

Strangely, though, his friend was quiet. “That’s what Severus told me, too,” he said.

 

“You’ve talked to him about Ginny?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

 

“No, about the choosing Dumbledore’s side thing,” Draco said. He gave Harry a pointed look. “The Death Eater thing, remember?”

 

“Oh, that,” Harry said. “Well, it’s good advice. I mean, I didn’t even think I liked him as a human being when we first kissed, and all I could think about was, holy mother of Merlin, I’m kissing Snape, and rather enjoying it. What the fuck is happening to me? And then I realized it was so much easier just to go with it. I was obviously enjoying it, so why not? And it’s been the best decision I’ve made yet.”

 

Draco was watching him curiously. “Did you at least know you were gay then, or did that just make itself evident right that moment?”

 

“No, that I knew,” Harry assured him. He laughed. “Yeah, that would have been a lot to deal with at once!”

 

“Harry?” they heard Severus’ voice call, coming up the stairs.

 

“Speak of the devil,” Draco said. “Hey, when are you two going to go public with your relationship?”

 

“As soon as I’m done school, you git,” Harry said back. “I’m in here!” he called. Then he added, for Draco’s benefit, “Well, as far as public-public goes, not until after Voldemort’s gone. I can’t put him in danger that way.”

 

Draco nodded, and the door opened. “There you are,” Severus said.

 

“Didn’t you hear me? I answered,” Harry said. “Did you get your new robes?”

 

“Yes,” Severus responded, giving Harry a suspicious look. “Don’t even say anything!”

 

Draco closed his mouth and exchanged a look with Harry, grinning. “Well, good thing Harry likes you in black,” was all he said.

 

Severus glared at Draco and Harry both. “Oh, does he, now?” he said to Draco.

 

Draco nodded serenely. “So he says.”

 

“Actually,” said Harry, pretending to examine the pattern on Ron’s blanket, “I really prefer flesh-tones on you. The natural kind,” he added innocently.

 

“Insolent boy.” Severus sat down beside him, leaving his packages in the hallway.

 

“Yeah, well, what are you going to do about it?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Draco said dryly, getting quickly to his feet.

 

“No – Draco, don’t, it’s alright,” Harry said in a rush. He felt bad, having come to find Draco and then making him feel left out in the room he’d been in first.

 

“No, it’s fine,” he said, waving off Harry’s concern. “I was actually just thinking of going and seeing what Ginny’s up to anyway. You boys go and have fun.” Draco flashed them a wicked grin and departed.

 

Severus smiled wolfishly at Harry. He grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him to his feet and out of the room, pausing only briefly to grab his things before half-hauling Harry up the stairs again. “My, aren’t we feeling lascivious,” Harry commented, as Severus pushed him into their bedroom.

 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Severus murmured, pressing his forehead into Harry’s and their bodies together.

 

“Well, it is a holiday,” said Harry, trying to keep his voice sounding casual, though having difficulty with his breathing.

 

“What do you want to do?”

 

“Take my clothes off, and I’ll tell you,” Harry murmured, brushing his lips against Severus’ mouth – not a kiss, exactly, just a brush. Severus put on hand on the back of Harry’s head and pulled his face back for a proper kiss, while his other hand began unhooking Harry’s robes one-handedly.

 

“You’re quite dexterous,” Harry breathed, as Severus bit into his neck.

 

“I’m quite good with my fingers, yes,” Severus said, his voice muffled in Harry’s collarbones. “Wouldn’t you say?”

 

Harry felt a reminding twinge in his backside. “Yes,” he exhaled. “Hurry, Severus!”

 

Severus removed the rest of Harry’s robe, as well as his shirt, belt, tie, pants, socks and shoes in under a minute. The only thing left on Harry’s body was the small pendant hanging around his neck; an emerald set in the upper curve of a platinum S, resting just below the hollow at the base of his neck; his Christmas gift to Harry. Meanwhile, Harry had been working just as steadily at relieving Severus of his unnecessary clothes (which would be all of them, in Harry’s opinion), but his fingers were slowed by his intense desire. He had removed the tie and was opening Severus’ collar, exposing the similar pendant he wore; only it was a ruby set in the upper arms of a gold H. Harry smiled, touched it lightly, remembering Christmas Eve day, when they had had them made in Diagon Alley together, and pulled Severus’ shirt off. At least he wasn’t wearing cuff links today. Now the pants. Good. Severus had stepped out of his own shoes, which made everything easier. He wasn’t wearing socks, which Harry thought was odd, given how cold it was in London.

 

“Where are your socks?” he asked, taking his mouth off Severus’ just long enough to say it.

 

“Remember how we woke up late?” Severus asked.

 

“Yeah, you wanted to get some breakfast before leaving, right?”

 

“Yes, well, I was in something of a hurry,” Severus confessed. “I wanted to get to the shops before they got crowded. You know how I feel about shopping.”

 

Harry gave him a strange look. “Severus, after breakfast, you came back up and shagged the living daylights out of me, remember?”

 

Severus smiled. “That’s why I was in such a hurry,” he answered, attacking Harry’s neck again.

 

Harry laughed, and, with some concentration, managed to snake his toes under the cuff of Severus’ black trouser sock and slipped it off his foot. The other sock was more of a struggle, left-footed, and he was also hampered in his focus by Severus’ tongue in his ear and the touch of his erection on Harry’s, but in the end, he managed that one, too.

 

“Okay, you’re naked now,” Severus whispered, “and so am I, so tell me what we’re going to do.”

 

“I want…” Harry pulled him over to the bed, “to do this again,” he said, pushing Severus down so that he was lying diagonally across the bed and arranging himself upside-down beside him. Harry adjusted his position somewhat, then leaned forward and took Severus into his mouth.

 

“Oh, that….” Severus said, with difficulty. “Oh, Harry, don’t stop doing that… oh, yes…”

 

A burst of creativity seemed to take hold of Severus, who leaned forward himself and very, very gently nuzzled his face into Harry’s testicles, kissing them and sucking them lightly, rubbing his nose and then tongue along the tight seam between them. Harry gasped along Severus’ shaft, which was exhilarating. The sensation made Harry harder than ever. Slowly, Severus continued his ministrations, beginning at the base of Harry’s cock and progressing in small kisses and tiny bites until he reached the head and took it in his mouth. Harry felt like he’d stopped breathing altogether, but kept sucking. Severus’ hands were gripping his ass, one arm beneath his weight on the bed. Harry slid his hand along the backs of Severus’ thighs and onto his ass, slipping his fingers into the place just behind his lover’s testicles to touch the same seam Severus had been licking on him before. Shuddering, they both gasped against each other and came, groaning their pleasure along each other’s spurting erections. They fell back weakly, sated.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, downstairs, Draco wandered into the drawing room. Ginny was setting champagne glasses around on golden, mirrored serving trays that she’d found somewhere. “Need help?” he asked, causing her to jump slightly. “Sorry,” he added.

 

Ginny whirled around. “Draco!” she said, putting a hand against her heart. “It’s okay, you just scared me. And I’m fine, actually, but if you want, you could check and make sure we have enough champagne for everyone.”

 

Draco smiled. “I just did,” he said. “I was looking for you, and I found the champagne instead, so I counted. There’s lots.”

 

“Why were you looking for me?”

 

“Just wanted to hang out with someone, is all,” Draco said lightly.

 

She narrowed her eyes. “Someone who wasn’t clearly longing to be carried upstairs and shagged senseless.”

 

“Yeah,” Draco admitted.

 

“I heard Snape come home,” she said, by way of explanation.

 

“I really did want to hang out with you,” Draco.

 

“Sure. Fine. What do you want to do?” Ginny asked.

 

“Er… I don’t know. Is there more stuff to do for the party?”

 

“Nah, Mum’s got it all covered,” Ginny said. “I was just bored.”

 

A bright idea came to Draco. “Is there somewhere around here where we could go for a fly?”

 

Ginny’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’d be great!” she said enthusiastically. “Maybe Harry will let me borrow his Firebolt.”

 

“If he’s not busy using it for something horribly wrong,” Draco muttered.

 

Ginny blushed. “That is so wrong, that you even said that,” she said. “I’ll go up and… see what’s happening. Did you bring your Nimbus?”

 

“Of course. I would never go anywhere without it.”

 

Ginny looked surprised, but just said, “Okay, then,” and went upstairs. She hesitated on the landing outside Harry and Severus’ room. She knocked. Pause. “Who is it?” called Snape’s voice.

 

“It’s Ginny,” she answered, feeling weirder than ever to be knocking at her Potions Master’s bedroom door. “I’m looking for Harry,” she added.

 

“Come in,” Snape’s voice replied. The doorknob clicked, evidently unlocking.

 

They must both be in there. Squeamishly, hoping she wouldn’t see anything she really didn’t want to, Ginny turned the knob. It was alright, though somewhat surprising. They were just lying in bed together, clearly naked, but covered, thankfully, Harry resting half in the crook of Snape’s arm and half against his chest. Their hair looked extremely messy, which was normal for Harry, but not for Snape. “Hi,” Harry said, seeming completely at ease. “What’s up?”

 

“I was – I was just wondering if I could borrow your Firebolt,” Ginny said quickly, feeling like her face was on fire. She hoped that everyone in question remembered that she still had a year and a half of having Snape as her teacher. “Draco and I were going to go for a fly.”

 

“Sure,” Harry said. He hesitated. “It’s over there, in the corner,” he added, pointing. He obviously was in no position to get out of bed. Ginny spotted it and went and got it, heading immediately for the door.

 

“Thanks,” she said, over her shoulder, closing the door behind her.

 

Harry felt Severus laugh gently. “Poor girl,” he said. “I hope that wasn’t traumatizing.”

 

“Well, she obviously felt comfortable enough to come looking for me here, when you know Draco probably told her what we were just up to, and she did come in and everything,” Harry pointed out.

 

“True. Still. She’d best not make snide remarks about it in the school setting. I still have her for one more year, remember?”

 

“Right,” Harry said, remembering. They had generally treated Ginny like she was in their year, too. “Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t. She’s smart, and she also has a healthy sense of self-preservation.”

 

“So why is she going flying with Draco, then?” Severus asked quietly.

 

Harry twisted his head up to look at him. “What’s wrong with that?” he asked. “I’ve been trying to get them together.”

 

“Have you?” Severus asked. “Do you think Draco’s ready for something like that? It would be very fast.”

 

“True,” Harry conceded. “We were very fast.”

 

“That was different.”

 

“Sure was,” Harry grinned.

 

“Insolent boy.”

 

“Grumpy git.”

 

“I just wonder if a relationship is really what Draco needs right now,” Severus said.

 

Harry thought. “I can see your point,” he admitted. “And he thinks that Ginny’s not over Neville yet, anyway.”

 

“Well, there you are then,” Severus said, as if that closed the subject. “What is the time?”

 

“How’m I supposed to know?” Harry complained. “You took my glasses again.”

 

Severus rolled over. “It is nearly five. The party starts at eight. I’m going to shower.”

 

“Can I come?”

 

“I think you just did – ow!” Severus added, as Harry slapped his ass.

 

“Just to shower, idiot,” Harry said, following him into the en-suite bathroom. “I need one, too.”

 

* * *

 

The party was humming. Everyone seemed to be having fun. It pained Harry, though, to see Severus holding himself so stiffly, conversing with people but clearly not really having fun. It was also difficult having him in the same room and not being with him, having to hide the fact that they were so in love. Severus was very good at concealing it, far better than Harry was, but Harry could read him, knowing that it took more effort than it looked. Severus was politely stiff to the other students, who reverted in like form, referring to him as Professor Snape and then only when they had to. Draco and Ginny were chatting with Tonks in one corner of the drawing room (Draco looking amused; he had only just met Tonks), while Ron and Hermione were with the twins and their girlfriends, laughing hysterically at times. Dumbledore and Lupin were sipping at wine at a table with Arthur and Moody. The Shacklebolts, having small children, had gone home early, and Mundungus had already left for another party. Emmeline had not come at the last minute, and the elder two Weasley sons were talking animatedly in the next room – about dragons, from the sounds of it. Harry realized that he was standing alone, just watching people. Severus caught his eye ever so quickly while continuing whatever he was saying to Molly and gave Harry a fleeting look. Harry smiled quickly, looked around, and found Moody’s magical blue eye watching him. He headed for the table.

 

“Have a seat, Potter,” Moody invited gruffly. It hardly sounded like a request, but one never knew with Moody. Harry sat.

 

“So,” Moody said. “Good term so far?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, fine, I suppose,” he said. “I’m looking forward to graduating.”

 

Dumbledore smiled. “How has the extra training been going? We were just talking about it,” he added.

 

“Fine. It’s been fun for all of us, actually,” Harry said. Lupin nodded in agreement.

 

“Potter,” Moody said, “you’re hiding something. Don’t tell me you’re not; I’ve felt it all evening. That way you keep sneaking glances at Snape. Don’t tell me he’s giving you a hard time in Potions or your training sessions.”

 

Harry heard “hard” and “sessions” and swallowed. “It’s nothing,” he said, too quickly. He looked at Dumbledore, who was looking thoughtful, appearing to study the bubbles in his champagne. Lupin’s face was impassive. He had, of course, discovered the relationship by now. He had told Harry, back at the end of October, that he (as Harry’s new godfather) was fine with it, but to be quiet about it. Obviously.

 

Moody opened his mouth, but Dumbledore cut him off. “I think,” he said quietly to Harry, “that it might be time to tell the Order.”

 

Harry’s jaw dropped. “The Order?” he said. “Why?”

 

“It may become important, for tactical reasons,” Dumbledore said impassively. “Your weak points, as it were.”

 

“If more people know, doesn’t that increase the danger?” Harry asked incredulously.

 

“Well, yes,” Dumbledore said. “Perhaps just Alastor, then. Come on, Harry. You want him knowing all the facts, don’t you?” Harry nodded mutely. “Should I tell him?”

 

“Sure,” Harry said, feeling uncomfortable.

 

Dumbledore said calmly to Moody (knowing that Lupin knew already), “Harry and Severus have been in a relationship since summer, Alastor. It is quite serious, very committed, and very loving. I see no reason to prevent this, as they’re both very happy. But you see the need for secrecy.”

 

Moody surveyed Harry with a rare look of surprise on his grizzled face. “Well, well, Potter,” he said. “I had no idea, honestly. So that’s not a look of him wanting to hex you exactly then, is it?” he added.

 

Harry blushed. “Uh, probably not, no,” he said.

 

Moody laughed heartily, and Dumbledore smiled apologetically at Harry.

 

Sometime later, Fred announced, “It’s almost midnight, everyone! Grab your champagne and your sweetheart!”

 

Harry looked unwittingly at Severus before he could prevent himself. This time next year, he told himself firmly, we can do this, too, or not at all because I’ll be dead. He held on to the first thought with all his might. Next year. He was standing near the doorway between the two rooms. Severus caught his eye again. People were counting down to midnight, even Dumbledore. In the ensuing cheering and confusion, Severus moved quickly across the room, grabbed Harry’s wrist and dragged him around the corner into the next room. He gathered Harry quickly into his arms and kissed him hard. “This time, next year,” he whispered, “we’ll do that out in the open. I promise you that. Happy New Year.”

 

Harry nodded, and said “Happy New Year,” a lump in his throat, and kissed Severus again. They broke apart and slipped, one at a time, back into the other room, which had exploded with cheering, the twins’ fireworks, and silly party-favour noises. One of Harry’s hands was behind his back, and he felt Severus slip his own into it quickly before moving away to hug Molly Weasley and wish her a happy New Year. Hermione was hugging Harry very hard. Harry hugged back fiercely.


	19. Talk of War and the Future

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: these people, alas, are not mine, apart from where I’ve added to what JK Rowling has built.

 

Chapter 19: Talk of War and the Future

 

School had resumed. Everything carried on as usual, with the exception of the fact that Harry and Severus were now sometimes invited to dine together with the Headmaster in his private quarters from time to time, sometimes with Lupin there, as well. Harry had no idea whether or not Professor McGonagall knew about his relationship with Severus, and though he rather suspected she would, he had less than no desire to talk to his Head of House about it. As she never had to spend time in their company, Harry doubted it would become an issue while he was still at school. And after school was another matter. More and more of Harry’s thoughts were bent on the coming war. Every day he scanned the Daily Prophet with dread, wondering when news of renewed attacks would begin. Occasionally, he asked Dumbledore, but the man was so busy these days, and rarely around. When he was able to ask, Dumbledore usually had nothing to tell Harry, anyway.

 

“It is difficult to predict,” he told Harry one night during dinner, about a month after the Christmas break, “for Voldemort was always unusually difficult to predict himself. The Aurors have been tracking the Death Eaters for months, and so far, there is nothing particularly unusual to reports. Parties at the Malfoy Manor. Who can be arrested for simply attending a party?”

 

“Mightn’t they be doing things, like torturing muggles they’ve captured, or whatever, at those parties?” Harry asked. “Draco’s told me stories like that. He also says they have dungeons below the basement, but that he’s never been allowed down there.”

 

Dumbledore gave Severus a curious look. “Have you seen the Malfoy dungeons?” he asked.

 

Severus shook his head. “No,” he said. “I always knew they were there… I just managed to avoid taking part in anything that happened down. Lucius has a particularly vicious streak in him that many of the rest do not. He and Dolohov were always plotting things together.”

 

Dumbledore nodded sagely. “Yes,” he said, “yes, Dolohov, that makes perfect sense. Well, I am afraid it is still private property, Harry, and more than likely so highly guarded that it would be very dangerous to send any of the Aurors in there.”

 

“I would assume,” Severus said slowly, “that one would need to be a Death Eater to enter, and that no substitution would suffice.”

 

“That is my assumption as well,” Dumbledore said, nodding again. He turned back to Harry. “In the mean while,” he said, “let us speak of other matters. Congratulations on the recent Gryffindor quidditch victory.”

 

Harry grinned. “Thanks,” he said.

 

“Was Draco very disappointed?” Severus asked, smiling.

 

“Well, he did really well,” Harry said modestly, realizing this made it sound as though he had done even better – which he knew he had, but it seemed rude to say so. “And everybody applauded him in the common room, too. He seemed pretty happy. He said it was the weirdest thing, playing for Slytherin and hoping for Gryffindor.”

 

Severus made a thoughtful noise. “He seems fairly settled into Gryffindor,” he said.

 

Harry nodded. “He doesn’t really spend much time in the dorm itself, but then he said he didn’t in Slytherin, either. But he’s usually in the common room.”

 

“Doing what?” Dumbledore asked.

 

“Oh, the usuals. Homework. Playing chess with Ron. They’re really about evenly matched, so they never get tired of trying to outthink the other. Arguing with Hermione about various things, hanging out with Ginny. They going flying together a lot.”

 

Severus gave Harry a pointed look. “Is there anything happening there?” he asked, glancing at Dumbledore.

 

Harry shook his head. “No,” he said. “I think you were right. Draco just decided that he’s not really ready for a relationship like that just yet, and Ginny just wasn’t really in the right place. She’s pretty much over Neville, but you can’t just jump into things that fast, you know? So they’re just friends.”

 

Dumbledore asked, with interest, “Is Draco straight? I always assumed… especially given some of his father’s – er – more particular talents – ”

 

Severus and Harry both shook their heads. “No,” Severus said. “He did attempt to convince himself at one point, and I recall thinking to myself that it was probably an act of sheer rebellion – ”

 

“Until,” Harry said, “he realized that, as he put it, his father would probably Crucio him to death if he ever found out. So he stopped trying to be, and spent a couple of years in total confusion. Now he figures that he’s actually straight, after all.”

 

“Did he have feelings for Ms. Weasley?” Severus asked Harry. “You never did tell me the end of that.”

 

“He did,” Harry said, “but he wasn’t even sure at Christmas if he should do something about them, act on them at all. So he waited, and now this is where it’s at.”

 

“Hmm,” said Dumbledore. “After the war, of course, it may be a different thing. I would very much like to see Draco settled safely. I don’t necessarily mean marriage,” he added, “but stable relationships. I realize that he has built some good friendships since his move to Gryffindor Tower, but many of you are in relationships yourselves,” he said to Harry, “and I do not want to see Draco isolated after the war.”

 

“If there even is an ‘after the war’,” Harry said gloomily. “We always say that, ‘after the war’, and who knows if any of us will even be alive then? It’s what I want, what we all want, more than anything – just to be able to live our lives, and not be afraid. Just be. Love. Have careers. Be happy.”

 

“Surely you know,” Dumbledore said, smiling gently, “that one can almost always be happy, despite circumstances. I believe that you are happier this year than you have ever been in the whole of your life, yet this has been the most dangerous year so far. Am I mistaken?”

 

Harry looked at Severus, who gave him such a look of love that he almost felt he could dissolve there on the spot. He realized that the same, dreamy, out-of-focus look must also be on his face, and turned quickly back to Dumbledore. “No,” he said, and Severus laid his hand over Harry’s on the table, “you’re perfectly right. But you see what I mean. We want to be allowed to be open about our relationship, be able to make plans for the future, not have to worry about Severus having to go spy, or me having to kill Voldemort. I just want to live.”

 

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Soon, Harry. I know things are heating up, I just can’t say when or where precisely. But I can feel things getting ready. Firenze feels it also. Mars is brighter now than in any time in the history of this world. It is my hope to come to the central issue in this war quickly, before many people have to die.”

 

“The central issue being Harry and Voldemort,” said Severus, his face paler than usual. Harry noticed that he’d actually said Voldemort’s name, and moved his thumb against Severus’ beside his.

 

“Yes,” said Dumbledore simply. “At the moment, Kingsley and I are trying to work out a way in which to trap Voldemort, turn the tables on him before he can lay any further traps for Harry. You, Severus, may be able to help us in this manner.”

 

“Professor,” Harry said to Dumbledore, hesitating, “I have another question.”

 

Dumbledore lifted his silver brows. “Yes, Harry?”

 

“The day Sirius died,” Harry said, “in the foyer of the Ministry, before Voldemort appeared, I was duelling with Bellatrix Lestrange, and I tried to use the Cruciatus Curse against her – ” he paused for a second, wondering if Dumbledore would be shocked or angry with him for this, but the old wizard simply nodded.

 

“You were justifiably angry,” he said, “considering she had just caused the death of your godfather and then provoked you about it.”

 

“Yes – well,” Harry went on, “it didn’t really work. She told me that it was because I didn’t really mean it, that I wasn’t, basically, evil enough to make it work. So, if I can’t even cast a Cruciatus Curse properly, how am I supposed to be able to kill Voldemort? What if I can’t do Avada Kedavra by then?”

Dumbledore considered. Severus was silent, but stroked his hand softly, his thumbnail rubbing over Harry’s. “It was never my intention,” Dumbledore said at last, the candlelight flashing on his glasses, “to train you with that curse. I think it can be avoided. I know your feelings about this Prophecy, Harry. If we can trap Voldemort somehow, perhaps there will be other ways of bringing about his death. After all, the Prophecy only said that you were the one with the power to defeat him. Not kill, outright. It may be that we can leave that to someone else, or to multiple parties.”

 

Harry thought about this. “Would a Dementor be able to do it?” he asked.

 

“No. A Dementor can only remove the soul.”

 

“Would that not be enough?” Severus asked quietly. “Without a soul, he is nothing.”

 

“Voldemort has many powers that even I cannot comprehend,” Dumbledore said quietly. “What if his soul were to possess the Dementor who sucked it away from him? What if it were somehow preserved? I do not know, and I doubt very much that anyone does, what happens to the soul itself in that process, whether the Dementor simply feeds upon it as energy and it becomes diffused, or if it is kept somewhere, somehow. I do not know, and I am not willing to take a chance in that way. He must die. I am no fonder of killing than either of you,” he said heavily, “but I know what must be done.”

 

Harry nodded soberly. “I know you’re right,” he said softly. “You always are. Well. Just keep me posted, alright?”

 

“I will,” Dumbledore promised.

 

Harry yawned, and said, “I’m getting tired. I think we should go.”

 

They all stood up, and with much exchanging of thank-you’s and good-night’s, Harry and Severus left the Headmaster’s chambers and went downstairs to the dungeons. Such a familiar place by now. The thought crossed Harry’s mind that it was odd, that he should be so familiar with the dungeons now, and Malfoy so familiar with Gryffindor Tower now. Strange, but so much better this way. Perhaps what Hermione had always said about the strife between the Houses was right, after all.

 

As they undressed for bed, Severus said to Harry, “He is right, you know.” His dark eyes flickered in the firelight.

 

Harry nodded, hanging up his robes in the usual place and stripping off his shirt. “I know,” he said. “I just don’t like to think about it.”

 

“Then we won’t talk about it,” Severus said, and crossed the room to him. Harry moved toward him and stepped into his embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around the familiar body.

 

“Okay,” he said, his voice muffled against Severus’ chest. “I just want to think about us, our future, together.”

 

There was a pause. “Do you really mean that, Harry?” Severus asked quietly.

 

“You know I do.”

 

“Yes, but – really, Harry,” Severus said, raising Harry’s chin with one finger, searching his eyes probingly. “Would you really want to spend the whole of your life with an older man, not so attractive, boring as hell – I’m a Potions Master, for Merlin’s sake – with a horrible reputation and history – would you really want to waste your youth away like that? After we survive the war, you will have people lining up for your attentions. You could do so much better than me.”

 

Harry thought of laughing, then didn’t think of it. “But you’re the only one I would ever see,” he said softly, seriously. “There’ll be these crowds, sure, but all the time, I’ll be looking for you. You’re the only one I can see, the only one I want. I’m not a child, Severus, you know that. I’ve never felt these feelings before, because I’ve never met the person I knew I wanted to spend my life with before. And now I have. I’m sure, Severus. There is no ‘better than you’ – you are my ideal, the highest aspiration I have. I have everything I want – except freedom from this terrible war.”

 

Severus gave a shaky laugh. “That, we’ll deal with,” he promised. “You’re sure? That you don’t think there could be anything better than what I have to offer?”

 

Harry pulled his face down and kissed him tenderly. “Better than this?” he asked in a low voice. “You must be joking. This is everything to me. You are everything to me.”

 

Severus hugged him very suddenly, so tightly that Harry thought he might actually crack one of his ribs. “I love you,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Oh, Harry, I love you so much.”

 

“I love you, too,” Harry said, hugging back hard. “I can’t imagine my life without you, my future without you. I don’t want a future without you.”

 

“Neither do I,” Severus said. He released Harry. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the bedroom, and when he came back, still wearing only his trousers, he was concealing something in his pocket. He looked a bit uncertain, but came to stand in front of Harry, by the fire. “When I originally bought this,” he said, “I was intending to wait a little longer before giving it to you – or at least, asking you to receive it – and I was planning to make it a really special time. But now I feel that this is the right moment.” Severus drew a small box out of his pocket and gave it to Harry.

 

Harry took it, looking incredulously up at Severus. Was it what he thought it might be?

 

“I, too, cannot imagine my life without you in it,” Severus said quietly. “I would like, more than anything, to spend the rest of it with you. When all this is over, Harry, will you marry me?”

 

Harry’s eyes filled, blurring Severus into a hazy outline. “Yes!” he said. “Oh, yes, Severus, yes!”

 

Laughing through his own tears, Severus drew Harry’s glasses off gently and pulled him close again, wiping the tears from Harry’s cheeks. They held each other tight and stayed that way for a long time, neither moving, nor speaking.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Harry overslept and missed his classes. Severus was gone when he woke up, no doubting having had to teach, so Harry showered, dressed and went straight to lunch. Before he left the suite, he slipped the platinum band back onto his fourth finger and muttered the spell that Severus had showed him to make it invisible, so as to avoid attention – after admiring the glittering green diamond set flat into the band. He felt as though he were floating on air all the way upstairs to the Great Hall, as though it were a talisman that would protect him from all harm. It was certain now, completely doubt-free. He had known for some time that he wanted this more than anything; he simply assumed that they would stay together indefinitely. But this was definite, this was real. They were promised to one another now, it was not indefinite, it was forever.

 

Ron, Hermione and Draco all looked up as he slipped in beside Hermione just after all the other Gryffindors had. “Morning, Sleepyhead,” Hermione said sweetly.

 

Harry grinned. “Morning,” he returned, and began to help himself to chicken stew.

 

“I see someone overslept,” Draco smirked. “What, did Severus not wake you? Because he was there in Potions.”

 

“We had a rather… late night,” Harry said evasively. “I guess he thought I needed the sleep.”

 

“Harry,” Hermione said suddenly, “what’s wrong with your left hand? There’s sort of a mirage on it or something.”

 

“Oh, that,” said Harry airily. “I’ll explain after lunch.” He was bursting to tell, but was not foolish enough to do so at the Gryffindor lunch table.

 

Hermione gave him a steely look. “You’d better,” she said.

 

Ron peered curiously at Harry’s hand. “Yeah, I can see it, too, but I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t said anything,” he said to Hermione.

 

Harry self-consciously put his hand on his lap.

 

“So, Harry,” Draco said, “did Dumbledore say anything last night? About any developments or activities?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No. He doesn’t know much… besides random parties at, uh, your parents’ house,” he said.

 

Draco sighed. “Death Eater parties,” he said.

 

“Yeah,” said Harry, nodding. “We talked about the dungeons at your house.”

 

“It’s not my house. Has Severus ever seen them?”

 

“No, apparently not,” Harry said. “He said he always managed to avoid those parties with made-up prior commitments or something.”

 

“Hmm,” said Draco, apparently impressed. “Well, I’m glad he wasn’t a part of any of that. As I’m sure you are,” he added.

 

Harry nodded. “Yes,” he said honestly, “I am. Not that it would matter now, of course, but still. In fact,” he added, struggling to maintain a casual tone, “especially now, you might say.”

 

Draco, Ron and Hermione all gave him weird looks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked, before the other two could react.

 

Harry couldn’t keep his ecstatic grin off his face. “I can’t wait any more!” he exclaimed. “But I can’t tell you here. Come on!” He abandoned his lunch and left the Hall quickly, the other three following closely.

 

Harry thought for a moment, then led them across the Entrance Hall to a tapestry he knew to conceal an alcove large enough for all four of them to duck into. “Someone do a lumos spell,” he instructed, “because I have to do something else with my wand.”

 

Immediately, a blaze of light issued out of Draco’s wand. “Thanks,” Harry said. He looked at them all with great affection; they were his best friends and he was about to tell them the best news of his whole, entire life. “First, I just want to say that you three are the best friends a guy could have,” he said, “and I’m so glad it’s you that I’m about to tell this to.” Hermione went wide-eyed and put her hands over her face. Harry tapped his hidden ring, held out his hand, and said, “We’re engaged.”

 

Hermione shrieked and threw her arms around Harry, crying, “I knew it!”

 

Ron was gaping, but said, “Wow, mate, congratulations!” He looked stunned.

 

Even Draco looked surprised, but all he said was, “That was fast! But it’s totally great, Harry, I’m really happy for you! Both of you.”

 

“Thanks,” Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. “I knew I could tell you guys.”

 

“I think you’ll be really, really happy together,” Hermione squeaked.

 

“We already are,” Harry smiled.

 

“So, is this a secret? I assume it is,” Ron said, answering his own question.

 

“Yes, definitely,” Harry said seriously. “You seriously can’t tell anyone.”

 

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Not even Ginny?”

 

Harry thought. “Well, Severus and I agreed on just you three for now,” he said. “It might be different – you know, if you two were dating,” he said, giving Draco an apologetic look, “but since you’re not, I think it should probably stay just between the five of us. Okay?”

 

They all nodded. “Okay,” said Draco. He didn’t look displeased, which was a relief to Harry. He’d wondered how the other would feel about that.

 

They emerged from the tapestry and went to their classes; the three genuine Gryffindors to Charms and the quasi-Slytherin to Transfiguration. Harry did not hear another word the rest of the day.


	20. The War Begins

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize

 

Chapter 20: The War Begins

 

Draco was at breakfast early, before his friends. Ron and Hermione would likely be there shortly from the Head Student rooms; Harry later, if at all. Seamus, Dean and Neville had given up asking where Harry was all the time. Harry had asked him, Draco, once, whether he minded being left alone in the dorm without him. Draco, to his own surprise, admitted that it was fine. He rather liked the other three. Dean was also a keen chess player, though not as good as Ron. And, as Ron and Hermione shared the same common room with the other Gryffindors, they were around much of the time. Harry often spent his evenings there, but slipped away after awhile. People tended to assume that Harry was simply getting more reclusive, having so much to deal with all the time. They really weren’t far off, Draco mused to himself. But as for the nights themselves, the other three seventh-year’s tended to leave Draco to himself, responding with great friendliness if he spoke to them, but otherwise accepting his silences or plain desire to sleep. The victory party following the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw quidditch match had actually been quite a lot of fun – sometimes Draco wondered if Slytherin House even knew how to have legitimate (or at least semi-legitimate, he amended mentally) fun, without hurting people. Sure, the Gryffindors raided food from the kitchens so frequently most of the house-elves knew all their names, and sure, they bent rules to the breaking point, but they were all, to a fault, brave, friendly, energetic and fun people, and Draco was surprised to find himself genuinely enjoying getting to know them.

 

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of a sleek, silver eagle howl – Draco’s stomach clenched – it was his father’s owl, Mordred, bearing the standard, magically-sealed scroll. Draco fumbled in his bag for the Malfoy heirloom ring which would allow him to open the letter. He no longer kept it on his person. Finding the old ring, he placed it, face-down, upon the seal, which broke. Draco unscrolled the letter and read:

 

Son,

 

I hope that it is with favour that you receive this missive.  
I apologize for not having written before now. I had to  
consider the best course of action pursuant to our disagreement  
last summer, over the matter of your acceptance of the  
Dark Mark following your graduation in June. I have  
accepted the fact that every son must rebel, and that  
you have had and completed this small rebellion.

 

We will go ahead with the process in June, as originally  
planned. I have not, as you should be grateful to know,  
mentioned your short course of disobedience to our Lord  
and Master. I await your answer telling me of your  
acceptance.

 

This is the winning side, my son. I suggest you  
consider any further rebellion very wisely. And further  
to that, I am the winner. Understand that there is  
no choice in this matter. You are my son and my heir,  
and you will become a Death Eater. I have spoken. Do  
not put my anger to the test.

 

There may be news soon. Until I can trust you again,  
that is all that I can say. Send me your answer, and  
we will begin arrangements.

 

Your father,  
Lucius Malfoy, Esq.

 

Draco dropped the letter on the table and sat back weakly. Mordred hooted softly. Draco ran his fingers through his soft, blond hair and looked at the owl. “No answer for now,” he said at last. “Tell him I’ll write soon, but that I’m too busy with school work right now. Tell him it’s for Potions. Okay?”

 

The owl hooted again and flew off. Draco found that his appetite was gone, and pushed his half-empty plate away. He actually felt rather sick. It wasn’t that he was regretting his decision or anything like that – there was no way he could ever return to an existence of being the person he’d been for the past sixteen and a half years or so. He had no desire to return to that life. He had only just come to real life lately, and he was simply not willing to give it up. Also, there was the fact that he had been training for this day, to fight against his father and his father’s friends, for months, trained by people his father hated and would surely kill him for associating with in this manner. But now, Draco reflected, it felt somehow very real.

 

Despite what he’d said to Severus months ago, while still trying to make up his mind, Draco was not all that concerned about betraying his family. Severus had been right; they had betrayed him long ago. He had first been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse at the age of two, and his mother had sat back calmly and watched – she hadn’t even tried to intervene. Draco remembered how bitterly jealous he had been when word reached his ears that Potter’s mother had died to save him – even giving him special powers of protection because of it. Draco had always known that he was not loved. His parents expected him to make them proud and not let down the family honour. Nothing more. And himself?

 

Draco thought, and realized with a deepening of bitterness, that he did not love his parents, either. He never had. They had let him down too early and too often for love to even begin. And look at this letter – his father was no longer even pretending to give him a choice in the matter – he used to say things about how proud he would be, to be the Dark Lord’s right-hand man, with his son at his side. It was all just for show, Draco thought angrily. It hurt him to know that he had never experienced familial love – and perhaps that was why he was so enjoying life in Gryffindor Tower – but he was far beyond the point where his father’s letter could have hurt him. But there were stirrings going on in his midsection, stirrings of fear. His father was a very dangerous man.

 

“Draco?”

 

His head snapped up. It was Hermione, with Ron, of course. They had already sat down, and he hadn’t even noticed. “Hi!” he said reflexively.

 

“Are you alright?” Hermione peered at him with concern. “You look – well, paler than usual,” she said.

 

Draco bit his lip, pausing. “Well, mostly,” he said. “I was thinking. Sorry I didn’t notice you guys come in.”

 

Ron waved this off. “Harry does it to us all the time,” he said.

 

“Yeah, well, that’s usually because he’s off in la-la land,” Draco replied dryly. “You know, when he gets that big, dreamy smile on his face, and you’re just thinking about how very much you hope he doesn’t start reminiscing about whatever pleasant thought brought that on?”

 

The other two laughed. “I know the look,” Ron assured him. “So, what’re you brooding about, then?”

 

“Who said I was brooding?”

 

“I did,” Ron said. He looked at Draco’s pushed-away, unfinished scrambled eggs. “You’re not eating.”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“Draco – ”

 

“You wouldn’t be, either,” Draco interrupted him flatly, pushing the letter over, “if you’d gotten one of these this morning.” Ron reached tentatively for the letter, looking at Draco for permission. “Go ahead,” Draco told him.

 

Hermione leaned in and together they read the letter. Hermione gasped at the end. “Oh, Draco!” she said, her large, intelligent brown eyes wide. “That’s horrible!”

 

Draco nodded grimly. “I’m actually kind of scared,” he admitted.

 

“You should tell Dumbledore, mate,” Ron said seriously. “Honest. He would definitely want to see this.”

 

Draco nodded again. “Yes, you’re probably right,” he said. “I was also thinking about what he said about there maybe being ‘news’ soon,” he added. “That’s totally pertinent to the war anyway.”

 

“It’s all pertinent to the war,” Hermione said. “Your role could be really crucial, Draco. And what do you think he means by ‘news’, anyway – attacks, do you think?”

 

“Knowing my father – well, sort of – probably,” Draco said.

 

Just then, Harry came in and strolled merrily over to their table. “Hey guys!” he said, in that annoyingly happy mood he always seemed to be in in the mornings. To no one’s surprise, Severus entered the Great Hall shortly after that. “What’s going on?”

 

They quickly explained, Hermione feeling badly as she watched Harry’s good mood evaporate into anxiety, and concern for Draco. He, of course, told Draco the same thing as the others; to tell Dumbledore immediately.

“Draco,” Hermione said tentatively. He looked at her. “Are you feeling… I mean, how are you… are you okay?”

 

Draco’s face contorted as he thought about this, little lines appearing all over his face. “I guess so,” he said. “I mean, it’s something of a bitch, knowing who my father is, what kind of a person he is. My mother, too; she’s no better.”

 

“Do they – do you love them, though?” Hermione asked.

 

Draco was surprised to find her stumbling onto the train of thought he’d been on when she came in with Ron. “It sounds terrible, but no,” he said. He gave a brief, though colourful sketch of his childhood. “They don’t love me,” he said. “They never did.”

 

“Does it hurt?” Harry asked quietly, from Draco’s side.

 

Draco kept his calm front in place. “It hurts me to know that I’ll never know what it was like, not having a mother and a father,” he said. “Not having those relationships, that kind of background to my character. It hurts me to realize what little character I’ve actually had all my life, that I became the kind of guy I’ve always been before you guys basically saved me. You know, where I can freely admit to myself – as I always have – that I don’t love my parents and that it doesn’t really hurt me that they don’t love me. I actually started wondering if I had any feelings at all.”

 

Harry probed Draco’s eyes, probably reading more there and not saying. Since his engagement a month ago, his legilimency skills had grown alarmingly, and they had already been fairly good from all his training. He nodded, not saying anything, which was slightly annoying to everyone else. “Well, we can talk to Dumbledore later, after dinner, maybe,” he said. “I’ll owl him and see if he’s free.”

 

Ron gave Harry a Look. “You make sure you tell him that it’s urgent,” he said. “He has to see this. Draco’s going to have to answer Lucius really soon, or else he’ll get suspicious, and he’s obviously going to need help with his answer, isn’t he? You guys need to get planning.”

 

“Just us?” Harry threw back.

 

“Yeah, well, at least you,” Ron said. “No one knows exactly what the Prophecy means, remember? Dumbledore was just telling us that in defense lessons last week – it might just mean that your wit has to be behind the plan that defeats him. You have to be involved at all the significant levels.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said dismissively. “But you could come, too.”

 

Ron shifted in his chair. “Well, it seems like it could be a fairly personal thing,” he muttered. “Maybe Draco doesn’t want a crowd.”

 

“What do you want, Draco?” Hermione cut in.

 

Draco’s face looked inscrutable. “Just Harry would be fine,” he said. “And Severus, too, I think. Is that okay?”

 

Hermione nodded and Ron joined her eagerly. “Whatever you want, mate,” he said quickly.

 

* * *

 

The Evening Prophet arrived during dinner. Hermione took hers eagerly and opened it. She gasped. “What?!” chorused three males voice immediately.

 

“There’s ‘news’ already!” Hermione said, pointing. “It’s horrible! Muggles! An entire little boys’ football team, killed right after a match. Oh, no! Their parents, as well! And all the people watching!”

 

“What has the Ministry done with the survivors?” Ron asked, his eyes wide with horror.

 

“Lightning storm,” Hermione said. “Listen – ” She began to read aloud: “The Ministry of Magic strongly suspects these attacks to have been orchestrated by active Death Eaters MacNair, Lestrange (Rudolphus), Lestrange (Bellatrix) and – ” she hesitated – “Malfoy (Lucius) – ”

 

“Draco, where are you going?” Ron called, but the Slytherin had abruptly risen from his seat and gone striding off toward the doors.

 

“Come on, Harry,” he called back tersely. “It’s time for our meeting.”

 

Harry, glancing at the clock as he rose to hurry after Draco, saw that it was. He caught up easily and fell into pace beside Draco. Obviously, his friend was upset, so Harry decided not to talk unless Draco seemed to want it. They made their way to Dumbledore’s office in silence. “Iced pumpkin juice,” Harry said to the gargoyles, who allowed them by. Harry pushed the door open and entered the office to see Dumbledore scanning the Evening Prophet himself. Draco followed Harry in and, instead of sitting, went to stand in front of the fire, facing it and not the room. Before Dumbledore could say anything, though, there were more footsteps on the stairs, and Severus entered the office. He had a Prophet folded under his arm. He took a quick look around the office, took in Draco’s guarded reserve, Dumbledore’s concern and Harry’s wary expression.

 

Severus moved to stand beside Harry, took his hand, gave Dumbledore a quick nod, and said a general, “Hello.”

 

Draco said nothing, and Harry simply squeezed his hand and leaned against him. Dumbledore said, “Hello, everyone. Let us get right down to business; I think we would all – ” and here his eyes cut to Draco’s rigid back – “feel better if we laid plans, started taking action at once. Please sit down.”

 

Harry and Severus complied at once. Draco stayed where he was. Dumbledore looked as though he were considering saying something, then seemed to change his mind. “Thank you for enclosing your father’s letter in the message you two sent me this morning,” he said to the two students. “Thank you for your trust, Draco.”

 

Still Draco did not respond. Undeterred, Dumbledore went on. “I have a plan,” he announced. “The events of this afternoon make it all the more urgent that we put it into action as soon as possible.”

 

Draco whirled around. “Does it involved me killing my father?” he snarled.

 

Dumbledore remained implacable. “Draco, I know you’re upset,” he began, but Draco cut him off.

 

“Do you know why he did it? This?” Draco asked, pointing at the newspaper open upon Dumbledore’s desk.

 

Dumbledore just shook his head, knowing that Draco was about to provide the answer. He was, as always, correct.

 

“It’s to mock me!” Draco said. “It’s to scare me, after his letter. I remember asking him once, when I was about five, if I could play on a football team. I asked every year until I was about seven, and he taught me never to ask him that again. He always said I was too small, too girly, and that Malfoys didn’t engage in unrefined, muggle activities like football anyway. He wouldn’t even buy me a soccer ball. Did you see how old those boys are? Ages six and seven, the article said. He remembers. He’s rubbing it in all over again, showing me what kind of power he’s always had over me. This is his little way of saying, look, I can do it again, to lots of people – and he chose them, those particular innocent little boys because of me.”

 

This news fell heavily on Harry and Severus’ ears. Draco had always avoided talking about his childhood. Severus had some idea of what it had been like, but the boy had always been unwilling to talk about it, so he left it alone. Of course Harry had gotten to know some of the history in the past few months as well – perhaps his own miserable childhood had helped Draco to share some of his, but still. And he was right. Severus knew that everyone in the office knew that Draco was right. It was exactly what he said it was. Severus knew Lucius, knew the bounds of his viciousness. Or rather, the lack of bounds to it. The man had a cruel sense of humour, and this was merely further evidence of it.

 

“Do you want to kill your father?” Dumbledore asked calmly.

 

“Don’t call him that. And yes, I want to kill him,” Draco said steadily. He sat down at last. “What happened to the tea part of this ritual?”

 

He seemed oddly calmer, all of a sudden. Harry looked at him curiously. Perhaps he felt better, just having talked. He was willing to bet that the football fiasco had been a particularly significant event of Draco’s childhood.

 

The ghost of a smile appeared on Dumbledore’s tired face. “My apologies,” he said smoothly, and tea appeared on floating trays in front of each of them, including himself. “Lemon?” he asked, offering round dish of fresh lemon slices. They helped themselves.

 

“What is your plan?” Harry asked, after sipping his tea.

 

“Ah. The plan,” Dumbledore said. “The plan is, at last, the trap I was hoping to set for Voldemort. If I am correct, Draco, Lucius will, in response to your letter of acceptance – hear me out – Lucius will arrange to meet you here at the school and transport you both to Voldemort’s side via a portkey. We – we will deal with this ‘we’ in a moment – will be at your meeting with Lucius, concealed – and we will attack him once we know the details of the arrangement. We will, still concealed, transport ourselves to Voldemort’s side and deal with him and any with him there.”

 

Draco felt cold all over. “You realize that all the Death Eaters are required to be present for an initiation ritual,” he said.

 

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “Yes. It will be very dangerous,” he said. “If at all possible, we should endeavour to get to Voldemort as quickly as possible and transport him back to Hogwarts with the portkey, hopefully having another set up nearby to get all of us off the school grounds again to somewhere where we can fight him without endangering the students.”

 

Now Harry felt weak. “That is insane,” he said. “That is so complicated.”

 

Dumbledore merely nodded again. “I am assuming that the second part would be rather harder to achieve,” he said. “We will, in all likelihood, have to fight the Death Eaters as well.” He looked at all three of them. Harry and Draco both looked extremely doubtful. Severus looked thoughtful, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “I need hardly say,” he added, “that we would not be going underprepared.”

 

Draco looked up. “Who is the ‘we’ you mentioned? Who else would be going?”

 

Dumbledore considered. “Well, all of us, for a start. The Aurors. Moody, Kingsley, Tonks. Then some of the other staff. Lupin, Minerva – not Hagrid, not for an operation involving a lot of stealth and concealment – some other students. Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley for certain, Ms. Weasley, Mr. Finnegan, Mr. Thomas, the Patil twins, Ms. Lovegood, Mr. Longbottom, and perhaps the older Weasley boys as well.”

 

“Bill and Charlie?” Draco said.

 

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Both extremely talented wizards, you realize.”

 

Draco nodded absent-mindedly. “That’s a lot of people,” he said.

 

Dumbledore set his tea down and leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “You do realize,” he said softly, “that if our plan succeeds, this could be the entire ‘war’? One battle, and everything over. No more innocent deaths. No more danger. We do it in one, quick, fatal blow. No tracking people down – we end it there.”

 

All three considered what this would mean.

 

“So,” Draco ventured, “it could well be the end the other way, too. What if Harry gets killed? I don’t want that. I don’t even want him to come, but I guess he has to, or else we pretty well know that Voldemort can’t be killed.”

 

“Unless it is merely Harry’s participation on some level which is required,” Severus said, speaking at last. “I, obviously, agree. I don’t want Harry going. But that’s not my choice to make. As well, I suspect that Dumbledore is right and that Harry will need to be there, when the time comes.”

 

His hidden ring, which Harry had had made to match his own, was touching Harry’s skin. Harry felt again the magnitude of what this war meant for them – life and love, or nothing. Or worst, if only one of them were killed. If Harry won the war but Severus was killed during it – he shuddered deeply, and Severus, feeling it, simply moved closer. Harry knew he was feeling the same thing. “I want to go,” Harry said.

 

They all looked at him, at least partially in surprise. “What?” said Draco.

 

“I want to go,” Harry repeated. “Let’s end this once and for all. I have a life to be living, and so do all of us. I don’t want to skulk around in fear forever. Neither do you,” he said to Draco. “Let’s deal with Lucius, deal with Voldemort, let the Aurors and them deal with the rest, and come home and graduate, for Merlin’s sake. Get on with our lives. I have a marriage to plan here, and a career.” He felt warm in the face, having said this, but it felt good. He was saying it – doing it – for them, for all of them. For himself. For Severus, who had been haunted by the Dark his whole life. For him and Severus, for their future together. For Draco, who had quickly become a very good friend in a very short time. For Dumbledore, who had been a father to all three of them.

 

Severus said nothing, but his hand held Harry’s so tightly that the ring almost cut into his hand.

 

“Marriage?” Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows.

 

Oops. Harry had forgotten that Dumbledore didn’t know yet. Draco actually grinned as Harry shot Severus an apologetic look. Severus shook his head slightly, clearing indicating that it didn’t matter, and gave his wand a flick. Both their rings appeared; one platinum with a green stone of some sort (enchanted diamond, probably), one gold platinum with a red stone (another enchanted diamond, Draco would have bet – they were extremely expensive and hard to come by, but Severus would surely know where to find them). “We have been engaged for just over one month,” Severus told the Headmaster with pride.

 

“With admirable secrecy,” Dumbledore said, respect evident in his voice. “May I offer my congratulations to you both. I had rather hoped this would happen.”

 

The two men laughed self-consciously, and Draco watched it, a slight pang of envy running through him. Just to have someone look at him that way… he sighed inwardly and pushed the thought away. Later. After he dealt with his perfidious father, left behind all vestiges of his family, and didn’t have to deal with awkward meetings-with-the-parents. Except that Ginny knows all about it, anyway. Draco pushed the unwelcome thought away. No. We’re not thinking about that.

 

“So.” Dumbledore’s voice brought everyone’s attention back to the sorry business at hand. “Are we agreed?” They nodded. “Then let us proceed. Draco, you must answer your father’s letter tomorrow morning. Tell him that you have your so-called rebellious phase is indeed spent and that you are ready to embrace your Malfoy heritage, or whatever phrasing he would prefer. Ask him for details on the initiation ritual, when it will happen, and so forth. Ask him if he will be coming to meet you at school to take you there. I realize he refers to an after-graduation event, but if you imply that you would be willing to spy on whomever you wish to name here at the school – Harry or myself would be ideal – perhaps they would make it earlier. Remember, the earlier we do this, the fewer innocent lives get lost.”

 

“Unless we rush in under-prepared,” Harry said.

 

“We won’t be under-prepared,” Severus assured him softly. “The Order has been itching to start duelling for a long time now. With the kinds of numbers Dumbledore mentioned, between adult Order members and older students, we will far out-number the Death Eaters.”

 

Dumbledore nodded at this, then looked at Draco. “Are you ready to do this?” he asked quietly. “It is alright if you say no. But it has the added convenience of freeing you from the trap Lucius had laid for you.”

 

Draco studied the depths of his teacup. “I am ready,” he said finally. “But I meant it when I said I want to be the one to – to finish Lucius.”

 

Severus looked at his godfather with dark concern. “Are you certain you want that, Draco?” he asked gently. “It might be easier, if… you don’t want that kind of extra baggage with you’re the remainder of your life, do you?”

 

“I think I owe it to myself,” Draco said obstinately. “He has ruined my life, thus far. I think it would be fitting if I put the end to the ruin he has made of his.”

 

The atmosphere in the office was quite heavy as they all left, each pondering his unwillingness to face his individual destiny. Harry and Severus walked Draco to Gryffindor Tower. Just before Draco went in through the portrait hole, Harry took hold of his robe-sleeve. Draco stopped, turning around, and was surprised when Harry grabbed him in a sudden hug. He didn’t say anything, just released him.

 

“You’re not coming in?” Draco asked, already knowing the answer. “It’s fine, go,” he said hurriedly. “I’m going to bed now, anyway. You guys probably need some time to deal with that on your own. Thanks for the company on the walk.”

 

“Good night, Draco,” Severus said quietly, knowing it was all the commentary his godson wanted at that point.

 

“Good night.” Draco went in, closing the portrait behind him.

 

Severus took Harry’s hand and led him downstairs. They didn’t say much as they got ready for bed, and the silence was as heavy as both their hearts. Severus climbed gracefully into bed. Harry went to stand beside it, on his side. “Are you angry with me?” he asked softly.

 

Severus shook his head. “Come here,” he said, pulling back the blankets on Harry’s side. Harry got into bed. Severus moved to him under the blankets, holding him close, bodies together again at last. Every minute apart felt unnatural. This was home, the way they belonged. “I’m just afraid,” Severus whispered. “I’m afraid of losing you. Of losing this. Of Voldemort making you into something or someone where you can’t even recognize me, or remember all of this. Of a future with no you in it.”

 

“I know,” Harry whispered back, fear encircling his heart like ice. “That’s what I’m afraid of, too. But that’s why I have to go.”

 

“I know,” Severus said. “I know.”

 

“I was never afraid before,” Harry said. “But now I have so much to lose. My life didn’t matter so much to me before – I had hopes and goals and all that – but now there’s so much more. But more importantly, I don’t want to die and leave you behind. I want to survive for your sake.”

 

“Please do, survive for my sake,” Severus said, rocking them back and forth. “That’s my fear, too – dying and leaving you alone again. If one of us is going to die, it should at least be both so that we can still be together.”

 

“Do you believe in life after death?” Harry whispered.

 

Severus rolled so that he was above Harry, and his left hand sought out Harry’s. He pressed their rings together, which made the diamonds glow, and kissed Harry’s mouth gently, deeply, lastingly, and said, “I believe in this, Harry, my love. I believe in us, in our love, in our power together, in our future. We will survive.”

 

“Do you feel it?”

 

“I feel it, yes.”

“Then why are you afraid?” Harry whispered. “I don’t know what to feel, I don’t have a feeling yet. But I’m afraid, too. The one thing Voldemort could actually take from me now – you, our future. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let us down.”

 

Severus kissed him again. “You won’t,” he said. “I believe in you.”

 

Harry kissed him back. “I believe in you,” he said. “You’ll stay right by me?”

 

“I’ll never leave your side. I promise.”

 

They fell silent. Harry pulled his glasses off and left them by his wand on the night table. He settled himself back into the contours of Severus’ body and listened to their breathing mingle together as they fell asleep, clinging to these hopes and dreams, and their faith and love in and for one another.


	21. Plans of Attack

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

disclaimer: still don't own it, you know that!

 

Chapter 21:

 

Dear Father,

 

Draco stared at the parchment in front of him. That is the last time I will write that, he thought. Father. The empty Great Hall was quiet around him. It was not yet dawn. Draco had had a feeling he might need a bit of time to compose this letter, and had risen early. He picked up his quill and resumed.

 

Thank you for your recent letter. It has put my mind  
at rest, as I was indeed concerned about your anger  
concerning the events of last summer. You are correct  
in assuming that my rebellious phase is over. I had  
been thinking about writing, but was not sure whether  
I would still be welcome to receive the Mark after my  
uncertainty and disobedience.

 

I have had the opportunity to do a great deal of thinking  
over this past school year, and you are right, as usual.  
This is indeed the winning side of the war, even though  
the fools who run this school will never see that. I want  
to fight by your side, serving our Master as father and son.

 

In fact, I am so eager to serve, I wanted to ask if it would  
be possible to receive the Mark and my initiation rites  
sooner than my graduation. Think about the possibilities,  
Father; I could spy on Dumbledore, Potter, and all those  
fools from Gryffindor House who worship that muggle-  
loving fool who calls himself Headmaster.

 

Please believe that I am most eager to serve the Dark  
Lord and you, Father. I have grown up over the past  
seven months, and am ready to embrace my destiny  
as a Malfoy son and heir.

 

I await your answer eagerly.

 

Your dutiful son,  
Draco L. Malfoy

 

Draco quickly re-read his words. Good. He thought it still sounded like the old version of himself. Cold, respectful, and just a little awkward due to the prolonged gap in their correspondence. Draco sealed the letter with the Malfoy ring. Mordred would come with the morning post, expecting his letter. Lucius, Draco knew, would not give up until he had an answer. In the mean time, he would eat breakfast. Not that he was hungry. But it was something to do, something to quell the panic that threatened to make itself known if he paused to consider the option of fear at all. No. He had to keep himself busy and not brood. Hesitating would only make him a victim. He had to be strong. So that he could, as he had phrased it, embrace his destiny as a Malfoy son and heir. Only not in the way that his father was expecting.

 

* * *

 

By the time the rest of the students had entered the Great Hall for breakfast, the owls were already circling. Draco had made himself sit quietly and wait for Mordred, who made a beeline for him at the first possible opportunity. Draco attached his longish letter to Mordred’s leg and said, to allay any suspicion, “Bring an answer back quickly, Mordred.” The silver-grey owl hooted softly and took off.

 

Across the table, Harry caught Draco’s clouded gaze. He said nothing, just held his gaze for a minute. Draco opened his mind and allowed the other to read his letter, or at least the general content. Severus would have been able to get it word-for-word. This was good enough. And he could count on Harry not to say anything. Hermione was great, Draco had to admit, but sometimes he just didn’t want to talk. Not for commiseration, not for sympathy, not for strategy. He just wanted to deal with it by himself. But Harry could know. There was no harm in that. Harry knew the limits.

 

“Holy shite, Harry, that’s an enormous ring!” Seamus’ voice suddenly interrupted their reverie.

 

Draco glanced at Harry’s hand and noted that his friend had forgotten (had he?) to hide his engagement ring that day. He looked at Harry, who shrugged modestly and said nothing.

 

“Is it – what kind of a ring is that?” Seamus asked curiously.

 

Harry seemed to consider this carefully. “It is the ring of the house of my family,” he answered after a moment’s thought.

 

“Oh,” said Seamus, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know the Potter House had a ring. I’ve never seen it before.”

 

“I never said the Potter House had a ring,” Harry said, gathering his things. “Well, see you all in Magical Creatures in a minute. I just have to run up to the Tower for something.”

 

“Wait,” Draco said. “I’ll come with you.” He grabbed his bag and went after Harry, leaving Seamus looking still-confused over Harry’s last reply.

 

As they hurried out of the hall, Draco said, “Harry!” in an urgent tone.

 

“Mmm?” Harry was walking quickly. Probably didn’t have any school things with him at all, Draco figured.

 

“Wait. Can we talk for a minute? I don’t care if we’re late for class.”

 

Harry looked at him and slowed his pace, though he didn’t stop. “What’s up? Can we walk and talk?”

 

“No. It’s too… look, can we just go in here for a minute?” Draco gestured to an empty classroom to their left. Harry looked at it, looked back at the expression on Draco’s face, then just shrugged and went inside the room. He turned to face Draco, waiting.

 

“What’s up?” he asked again.

 

Draco hesitated. “I just realized,” he said, realizing he sounded a bit lame, “somehow, I guess, when you said that to Seamus about your ring and stuff… it just hit me how serious this whole thing with you and Severus is, and I’m aware of how much that changes things for you, in terms of what kind of risks you want to be taking and stuff. Crap, this sounds totally corny. I just wanted to say that I know, maybe, how you’re feeling about all this, and that… if you don’t want to, then I really don’t want you to come to the thing with… Lucius.”

 

Before this, Draco had sensed that he only had about seventy percent of Harry’s attention. Now he had it all. Harry’s brilliant green eyes surveyed him seriously. “That’s not lame at all, first off,” he said, without a trace of joking in his voice. “Secondly, though, my mind is made up. No one will change it, not you, not Severus, not Dumbledore, not Ron, no one. I want this all to be over so badly I can taste it. And if I need to be there for it to happen, then I’m going. If it happens to help you all, too, so much the better. I appreciate that you realize, though,” Harry said. He looked past Draco, to the windows on the far wall. “All I think about is getting through this, and just being able to live normally. I don’t know what that’s like. I know you don’t, either,” he added. “That’s why this has to happen. We need our lives back, all three of us. He’s got them right now, and I’m going with you to take them back for ourselves. For all of us.”

 

“And what if Severus doesn’t survive this?” Draco asked quietly. He winced slightly as he saw the shudder that shook Harry’s body, despite his best efforts to suppress it.

 

“That’s one of the risks we’ll have to take,” he said, his face white and taut with strain.

 

“Harry, come on. Talk to me.”

 

Harry put both his hands quickly to his face. “I don’t think I could bear it,” he said, his words muffled. “I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t want him coming, but he’s just as adamant as I am. He won’t let me go without his protection and presence.”

 

“Are you scared?” Draco asked, his voice still very quiet.

 

“Terribly. But what else can I do? What choice do I have? It has to happen sometime, better now than before more innocent people get killed.” Harry stuffed his hands into his robe pockets and kicked the leg of a nearby desk. “I just hate it that it has to be this way.”

 

Draco nodded. “I just have to ask something else, though,” he said. “I mean, I know you have to do it, it’s your destiny, et cetera, and that you’re not just coming for my sake. But if he dies, would you blame me? Be honest,” he said. “Just tell me.”

 

Harry looked at Draco in surprise. “How could I blame anyone but Voldemort for his actions, or the actions of his followers? No, Draco. I would never blame you. I’d be far more likely to blame myself, honestly. That’s what I did after Cedric… and Sirius.”

 

Draco closed his eyes for a long moment. Harry couldn’t tell if it was from relief or sympathy. Finally, he opened them again, and said, “I had to ask, Harry. Come on. I’m holding us up. Let’s get your stuff and get moving.”

 

“Good thing it’s Hagrid,” Harry said, moving toward the door, “he always forgives us!”

 

Draco forced a laugh, and followed the Gryffindor upstairs.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, a reply came. Mordred fluttered down onto the Gryffindor table in front of Draco, bearing the usual scroll with its usual seal. Malfoy dove into his bag, hesitated for just a moment, then pressed it to the seal. He dropped the ring back into his bag, then unscrolled the parchment and read:

 

Dear Son,

 

I am pleased to discover that you have come  
to your senses and have no further desire to waste  
time in indecision or rebellion. It would have  
become my painful duty to discipline you in my  
own way, and as I recall, you have been none too  
fond of this in the past. Does the Cruciatus leave  
scars? I have always wondered.

 

I have communicated your desire to be initiated and  
Marked earlier than we had previously discussed  
to our Master, and he is both willing and pleased,  
as I myself am. In seven days time, I will journey  
to the school. You will tell Dumbledore that it is  
merely a routine visit. As you did not, as usual, return  
to the Manor for the Christmas holiday, this should  
not arouse suspicion. From there, we will take a  
portkey to the site of the rituals. 

 

Understand that there can be no going back on this,  
my son. If you fail me or embarrass me, I will be  
obliged to chastise you before the company of the  
Dark Lord’s loyal Death Eaters. You will not fail me.  
This is not now, nor will it ever be a choice.

 

We will meet in the room adjacent to the Great Hall,  
behind the staff table. The rituals will only take an  
hour or two, and you should be able to go and return  
without anyone noticing. I will see you in seven days’  
time. Come alone, and tell no one of this.

 

On pain of death and worse,

 

Your father,  
Lucius Malfoy, Esq.

 

Draco dropped the letter. Seven days. They had seven days. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, but at the same time, his father’s taunt about the Cruciatus leaving scars rang in his head. He unwittingly uncurled his hands and saw the extra-fine lines, hardly noticeable to the untrained or unseeking eye, streaking across his palms. Yes, it left scars, damn him, and by all that was good and worth living for, Draco would have his revenge. Cold fury took the place of his terror, and Draco embraced the cold. He re-sealed his father’s letter under a different type of seal, summoned a school barn owl that had just delivered something to the Creevey brothers down the table, and sent the letter to Dumbledore.

 

Draco then took out his quill and a piece of parchment, and quickly wrote:

 

Dear Father,

 

Nothing could please me more than this arrangement.  
Please tell the Dark Lord that I am waiting for this event  
with great anticipation. I await your arrival in seven days’  
time. No one will know.

 

Your faithful son,  
Draco L. Malfoy

 

* * *

 

That night, at dinner, a number of students received notes from school owls. It was simply a brief message that read as follows:

 

Dear [Student’s name],

 

Your presence is required tonight for a meeting  
of strategy and preparation. Please come to the  
Room of Requirement at precisely 8:00pm.  
This meeting will remain secret on pain of  
expulsion and possible arrest. Bring only  
your wand.

 

Sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore,  
Headmaster

 

At eight o’clock that evening, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco went to the Room of Requirement. “What do you reckon this is about?” Ron asked, as they climbed the many sets of stairs between themselves and the room.

 

“It’s probably, you know,” Hermione said, looking over at Draco, “about the plan. I bet the other students who are joining the Order will be there, too.”

 

“Who does that include, again?” Draco asked.

 

Hermione was still rattling off names as they Harry and Ron went ahead and led the way into the room. All the people Hermione had mentioned – Dean, Seamus, Neville, Ginny, Lavendar, the Patil twins (Parvati sitting very close to Dean), Luna Lovegood, Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot – all the old DA crowd. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Lupin, Sprout and Snape were also there. The latter gave the four entering a quick, subtle smile, though Hermione in particular noticed how the dark eyes remained on Harry long after they’d broken eye contact. The room was filled with a soft buzz of interested, somewhat concerned talk.

 

The door opened one more time, and Dumbledore appeared, strolling into the room. His appearances around the school were becoming less and less frequent, although he was usually there. The collective whisper rustling through the students attested to the rarity of this sighting, but quickly fell silent as Dumbledore came to the front of the room. He turned to face everyone with an expression of both calm and power. Power radiated from the man, and Harry marvelled again at the fact that it would be he, himself, rather than this great wizard standing before them who could defeat Voldemort.

 

Dumbledore began to speak. “I have called you all here today for a purpose,” he said. “Time is very short, so I must be brief, or at least as brief as possible. You are all here because you have committed yourselves to becoming members of the Order of the Phoenix immediately upon graduation. I realize that this does not apply to two of you here, Ms. Weasley and Ms. Lovegood, but I need you now nonetheless. The rules of the Order are very strict and you may indeed not become full members until you leave school and have turned seventeen years of age. However, I have prepared a sort of temporary bond that will prevent betrayal, ensure secrecy and allow you to serve me for a brief time. I must know, therefore, if there is any person here who is not willing to do this at this point.”

 

Dumbledore paused, waiting, looking round at all of them, probing their faces. No one said a word. “Are you all committed, then?” he asked, and the room was utterly sober and silent. “Then we will go ahead,” he said. He then led the students present into an oath of faithfulness and secrecy, warning them all that a serious jinx would come into effect, should any of them breach secrecy. The jinx would remove the sinner’s power of speech more or less forever, as well as leave them unconscious until Dumbledore himself decided to release them. He asked again, after explaining this, if anyone wished to leave. No one did, and Harry felt proud of his fellow students.

 

“The time has come for me to be more open with you,” Dumbledore said, as the oath ritual was completed. “The war has begun.”

 

A collective gasp went up. The staff, including Severus, who already knew, looked uncomfortable. Lupin had his wand drawn, pointed at the floor, his hand clenched tightly around it.

 

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, “I know this is most distressing. We have a plan. First of all, there are four students among us who have been receiving secret extra training for the greater part of this year, and I ask you four to join me here.”

 

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco looked at each other, then went up. “Yes, thank you,” the Headmaster said. “This is simply to let the rest of you know that these four have particular talents and training that you do not, and if we ask them to do something and you are asked not to participate, there will be a reason. Now. Many of you will be aware that Lucius Malfoy – ” here Draco stiffened visibly, but did not move otherwise – “is a Death Eater. Many of you will also be aware that Draco here has been living in Gryffindor Tower since autumn. The reason for this is that Draco has been in danger from other Slytherins who have familial connections to the Death Eaters. Draco had openly expressed to his father some doubt concerning his own decision to receive the Dark Mark this coming spring. Draco made the decision to join our side back in autumn, and we are all very happy about this, I am sure. Therefore, we deemed it safer for him to stay in Gryffindor Tower, though he is still a member of Slytherin House. It is essential that Lucius never find out Draco’s true feelings on this matter. However, I also felt it essential that you all be aware of where Draco’s loyalties lie.”

 

Dumbledore glanced at Draco and saw that the young man’s profile was solid, defiance flashing in his steely eyes. Privately, the Headmaster marvelled at the immense changes that had come over the young Malfoy since developing his friendships with Harry, Ron and Hermione, the maturing and growth that had taken place. He was stronger than he looked, by far. He was not his father’s son for nothing. Dumbledore continued. “Lucius is coming to the school in one week’s time to take Draco to the Dark Lord to receive the Mark and enter into service as a Death Eater.”

 

Here people gasped again. Harry saw Severus’ eyes go to Draco’s face with a flash of concern which he carefully masked again. Then the obsidian gaze was turned to him. Harry held his fiance’s eyes for a long moment.

 

“We will lay a trap both for Lucius and then for Voldemort,” Dumbledore announced in a ringing voice. “The meeting will be taking place in the room adjacent to the Great Hall, behind the staff table. We will all be there, invisible, as well as several Aurors from the Ministry who are Order members. Many of you will remember the false Alastor Moody, better known as Mad-Eye. The authentic Moody will be with us, and that is no small help. All the staff you see here will be present. While we are occupied, Hogwarts will be guarded by Hagrid and Madame Maxime of Beauxbatons Academy, who will be arriving tomorrow. The plan runs thus: we will be in the room before Lucius arrives. Draco will be brought by myself, for I do not require invisibility cloaks or spells to remain unseen. The meeting will proceed. Draco will find out any details he can before appearing to take the portkey. At this time, he will attack Lucius in a matter seeming fit to him. We will leave Lucius behind, preferably unable to follow, and take the portkey. All of us. It will take us to Voldemort’s side. We will fight, and we will win. Are they any questions?”

 

The students seemed unable to find the starting point to the questions, but eventually someone began, and the questions poured forth.

 

“Sir? Will all the Death Eaters be there?” Ernie Macmillan asked, awe and fear in his voice.

 

“Yes, Mr. Macmillan, I am afraid so.”

 

“Just exactly how many are there?” Padma Patil asked.

 

Dumbledore looked at Severus, who said, “Twenty-two, last count.”

 

“How many of us will there be?” Neville wanted to know.

 

Now Dumbledore looked at Lupin. “Twenty-eight,” Lupin answered quietly. “There are five staff members, fourteen students, eight other adult Order members, including four more Weasley brothers, Arthur Weasley, plus Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

 

Dumbledore spoke again. “We will meet again tomorrow night to discuss particular strategies. In the mean time, there is something else which must be shared. It is essential that we communicate everything which you need to know, so that ignorance not hinder any of us in this process. It concerns, as many of you likely suspect already, Harry Potter.”

 

Harry listened as Dumbledore recounted the Prophecy again, to the shock and horror of many of his classmates. Harry looked away from their faces and trained his eyes on Severus’ instead. Dumbledore finished. “So,” he said, “if it has ever seemed, in the past, that Harry has received any sort of special treatment, this is the reason behind it. This is also the reason behind my having chosen Harry and his three closest friends for the extra training – not to mention the fact that they are all superior wizards – and witch – indeed, and excellent leaders. Now. You must do all that you can to prevent anything from coming to prevent Harry from fulfilling the Prophecy and putting an end to the Dark Lord. This is your task. You must prevent Death Eaters from impeding him, and you must protect him in any way that you can. There will be staff members – ” Dumbledore’s eyes flicked briefly to Severus – “watching out for Harry in particular, but he will need as much help as you can give. Harry is an extraordinarily talented wizard, and I know that you all know how many times he has escaped Voldemort before. This, however, must be their final confrontation. We are all anxious to put an end to this. I realize that the war has only now begun, and already we speak of its end. This is my hope. Your task is to help Harry do what he must do. Are we agreed?”

 

There was silence. Dumbledore said again, “I ask you to help Harry. In doing so, you will save yourselves and the people that you love. You will grant the world freedom. Are you prepared to risk your lives in seven days’ time in order to achieve this? I will ask you one by one, for we must be committed.” He looked around the room. “Susan Bones,” he said.

 

“I am committed, sir,” she said. Dumbledore nodded and moved on. “Ernie Macmillan.”

 

“I am committed, sir,” he answered, lifting his chin slightly as he spoke.

 

Dumbledore went systematically around the room. “Parvati Patil. Dean Thomas. Padma Patil. Lavendar Brown. Seamus Finnegan. Neville Longbottom. Ginny Weasley.” Draco looked at her. She looked straight back at him, answering firmly,

 

“I am committed, sir.”

 

“… Finch-Fletchley. Hermione Granger.”

 

“I am committed, sir,” she said, reaching around Ron to touch Harry’s elbow lightly.

 

“Ronald Weasley.”

 

“I am committed, sir.” Harry glanced at Ron and saw his best friend’s face was pale but unafraid.

 

Dumbledore went through the staff. Finally he said, “Severus Snape.”

 

“My commitment goes far beyond this oath, sir,” Severus said, the words coming out both somewhat harshly, yet still respectfully. “But I am committed, fully and truly.”

 

“I know, my friend,” Dumbledore answered him, a gentle smile moving across his old, lined face. “Draco Malfoy.”

 

“I am committed, sir.” Draco’s voice was firm and steely.

 

“And finally, Harry Potter,” Dumbledore said, turning his piercing blue gaze to him. “Do you accept the help of these, your classmates, friends, and loved ones? Will you accept their protection?”

 

Harry was very aware of Ron and Draco standing very close to him, their stances strong and unwavering. Of Severus’ penetrating gaze on his face, and the weight on the ring on his left hand. “I accept this help and protection, sir,” he said.

 

“Are you yourself committed to this endeavour?”

 

Harry’s eyes flashed. “You know that I am committed, sir, with my very being.”

 

“I thank you all,” Dumbledore said simply. “I ask you to return at this time tomorrow. You may go. Speak to no one of this but yourselves.”

 

The room empty, a great feeling of solemnity upon all who were present. Severus did not move. Harry’s friends took note of this and left quietly with everyone else, including Dumbledore.

 

The space between them was too large. Harry could not move, somehow. Severus came to him, instead. They stood before one another, not speaking for several moments, until Severus finally said, “If only you could have been anyone else.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know. I know, Severus.”

 

Severus said nothing else, just moved closer until their chests were touching. His hands ran slowly up Harry’s forearms, stopping at the elbows. Harry just waited, waited for Severus to take him into his arms, which he did, burying his face in Harry’s soft hair. “I didn’t think it would be this soon,” Harry whispered. “I’m sorry, Severus. I wish there was more time. For everything.”

 

Severus did not speak for many moments, just held him close, as though the power of his love alone could keep his lover safe and whole. “We must make every minute of this week count,” he said.

 

Harry pulled back from the embrace so that he could look up into Severus’ face. He nodded. “Every minute,” he agreed. “Starting with tonight.”

 

A look of slight surprise crossed Severus’ face. “I thought you might be feeling too… serious for that, tonight,” he said.

 

Harry shook his head, then laughed suddenly. “Never,” he said. “If this is possibly our last week together, ever, then I certainly don’t want it all to be serious. Let’s just keep doing what we do, being who we are, until then, okay? And all I want is to be with you. Love you. Feel you loving me. Now. Please.”

 

Severus laughed gently, as Harry pushed his silky dark hair back from his eyes. “Here?” was all he said.

 

Harry leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. “No. Take me downstairs. Take me home.”

 

Severus kissed him back, his mouth leaving a warm trail along Harry’s jawline, neck, ears, lips. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go home.”


	22. Getting One's House in Order

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

disclaimer: I don't own what Joanne K. Rowling does

 

Chapter 22: Getting One’s House in Order

 

“Where are you going, Harry?” Ron asked, as Harry sighed, placed a short scroll of parchment in his bag and starting getting up.

 

“Dumbledore,” Harry said. “I have to go to his office. No classes for me today.”

 

“What did the note say?” Draco asked, nodding his head toward Harry’s bag, where it was concealed.

 

“It’s about my wand,” Harry said. “He has to do something to it, and he said there’s something else, too, that he would explain. One or the other’s obviously going to take a long time if I won’t be around again until dinner.”

 

Hermione looked worried. “I hope it’s not something else huge that he hasn’t been telling you for the past seven years.”

 

Harry nodded grimly. “Yeah, me too,” he said. “Well, only one way to find out. See you guys later.” He swung his bag onto his shoulder and left quickly.

 

Hermione looked at the staff table, where Snape’s dark eyes watched Harry’s progress with concern. “Look,” she said, nudging Ron and nodding toward the professor.

 

Ron and Draco both looked, and it was Draco who said, “Must be really hard on him.”

 

“Why on him in particular?” Ron wanted to know.

 

Draco shrugged. “Well, I guess it’s hard luck on them both. And the rest of us in general. But he has a better chance of surviving, wouldn’t you say? I mean, he’s managed to betray Voldemort and stay alive for all these years now. And with Harry, it’s either or. If he dies, Severus will be devastated.”

 

“And likewise with Harry, if Severus dies,” Hermione said.

 

Draco nodded. “Yeah. Hard either way.”

 

Ron looked resolute. “Well, all the more reason for us to know what we’re doing when we get there,” he said. “We’ve survived Death Eaters before. It’ll all be fine.”

 

* * *

 

Harry entered the Headmaster’s office with a slight sense of doom. Well, apprehension, anyway. “Professor?” he asked.

 

Dumbledore’s chair swivelled round to face him, and he said, quite calmly, “Ah. Harry. Hello.”

 

Harry sat down in his usual chair. “What’s up?” he asked.

 

“Tea?” Harry nodded, and tea appeared. “Well, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “I don’t know if this has occurred to you to wonder about, but we have a question which concerns your wand.” Dumbledore glanced up at Harry over his silver spectacles, waiting for a response.

 

“Right,” Harry said, remembering. “Because it’s Voldemort’s wand’s brother… it can’t work against his, can it?”

 

Dumbledore smiled. “That is indeed what I thought,” he said. “I have been in contact with Theseus Ollivander. He tells me that this should not be as difficult as I had expected. I was almost afraid that we would have to get you a new wand, and this is hardly an ideal time to be training with a new wand.”

 

“So what do we do?” Harry asked with interest, taking out his wand and looking at it.

 

“You recall that the core of your wand comes from Fawkes,” Dumbledore said.

 

“Yes, of course I remember,” Harry said, looking at Fawkes in all his radiant splendour.

 

“Well, we are going to do something called sanctifying your wand, Harry,” the Headmaster said. “It means spelling it against any former relationships it shares with another wand. We do this with Fawkes’ permission; essentially, what the spell comes down to is asking Fawkes to disown from himself the particular tail feather which is contained in Voldemort’s wand.”

 

“And how does he do that?” Harry asked, fascinated, still watching the phoenix.

 

“He sheds tears on your wand,” Dumbledore said. “I have already communicated with him on this matter… he is most willing to be of help, though it pains him. You surely understand how powerful any part of a phoenix is, do you not? Any part of Fawkes which is removed from him weakens his power, be it ever so slightly. After all, he does have quite a few feathers.”

 

Harry looked up and caught Dumbledore’s quirking smile. “I suppose so,” he agreed. “Alright then, let’s do that.”

 

“Give me your wand.”

 

Harry held it out without a word. Dumbledore took it from him and examined it closely. He then took it over to Fawkes and began murmuring soft words in a language Harry did not recognize. This went on for some time. Eventually, just as Harry’s back was beginning to cramp (he didn’t want to move and disrupt the spell), the murmuring stopped. Harry watched as the phoenix shed two largely, pearly tears upon Harry’s wand. As they touched the holly wood, they glowed golden, reminding Harry of the night when Cedric died, and his wand had been connected with Voldemort’s, shining beads of power moving back and forth between the two wands. The golden beads sank into the wood and vanished. Fawkes shed another tear, and Dumbledore stroked his beautiful head softly. “Thank you,” he murmured.

 

He turned back to Harry and held out the wand. “There,” he said. “That is finished now.”

 

Harry put it away. He waited.

 

“Harry.” Harry looked at the old wizard, waiting for what dreadful new discovery might be coming. “I have looked into the Prophecy further,” Dumbledore said.

 

Harry felt fear seize his heart like a cold, iron band. He started fervently wishing that Severus were there. “What?” was all he could manage.

 

The wizard’s face was very serious. “I am afraid,” he said, clearly very reluctant to finish the sentence, “that it must indeed be you who kills Voldemort. I have looked into this matter thoroughly since the last time we discussed this. The Department of Mysteries is quite certain on this point, although there is always an element of uncertainty in every Prophecy.”

 

Harry felt numb. He should have known. “So…” he began, trailing off. He picked at a small piece of fluff on his robe. “So how to I prepare myself for that?” he asked finally. “I couldn’t even do the Cruciatus Curse two years ago, and I’ve hardly been practising.”

 

“That is good to hear,” Dumbledore said dryly, “as I would be forced to punish you if I had discovered you had been cursing your fellow students with an Unforgivable. The trick, Harry, I believe, is to harness all that anger you carry inside you and channel it outward. It may be something that you can only do when the time comes.”

 

Harry sat there, trying to absorb this. “How do I do that?” he asked, not meeting Dumbledore’s eye. He could never do it. He simply wasn’t powerful enough.

 

Dumbledore surveyed the young man. “Harry, do you remember, during your childhood with the Dursleys, there were several inexplicable incidents. One involved you running and jumping behind some dust bins and ending up on the school roof. Another involved your hair mysteriously growing back immediately following every hair cut your aunt subjected you to. You do know to what I am referring?”

 

Harry nodded, trying to understand where this was going. “Yeah,” he said, allowing the confusion he was feeling bleed into his voice.

 

“These were examples of your own, unrefined power,” Dumbledore said. “You had no wand and did not know that you were a wizard. Moreover, you were a child. Still further, you were not intending these things to happen. Can you imagine how much more powerful you could be, if you only intended them, understood them, and had the ability to control them? You do have this power, Harry. You also carry with you a great deal of anger: anger at your upbringing with the Dursleys, anger at your parents’ premature deaths, anger at Cedric’s death, anger at Sirius’ death, anger at the Prophecy. All of these come back to Voldemort, as you know full well. Channel this anger, Harry, and you will find the ability you need to bring him down. Think of everything he threatens by living. Of all he could do to your friends. To this school. To Severus. To yourself. You must find a way to do this, Harry, to focus your powers into your feelings. As you demonstrated so clearly in your fifth year, disciplines such as Occlumency and Legilimency are things that you have the ability to master – as Severus tells me you are indeed doing now – but your primary capabilities have to do with the strength of your emotions. Remember, Harry, that it was your love for your godfather that saved you from Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic. Think of the strength of your love for your friends. Think of the strength of your love for Severus. The strength of your heart, Harry, is your best and most reliable ally. Control is all that you lack.”

 

“And I’m supposed to learn how to control my feelings in six days, am I?” Harry bit out.

 

Dumbledore, to his surprise, smiled. “You see,” he said, “you are angry already. You won’t need control over your anger, Harry. Just the ability not to go over the edge and lose yourself to the oblivion of rage. When you are truly enraged, you will not need a wand to cause damage around yourself.”

 

Harry felt chastised. “Okay,” he said uncertainly.

 

“Do you have any other questions?” Dumbledore asked.

 

“Er…” Harry struggled to think of something intelligent, but his brain remained stubbornly empty. “No.”

 

“Then you may go,” Dumbledore said.

 

“I thought I was excused from my classes.” Harry was confused.

 

“You are. I thought you want prefer to spend the time differently,” Dumbledore said simply. “Revise your defensive and offensive spells. Be with him. Whatever you prefer.”

 

Harry felt a rush of gratitude. Here was Dumbledore, calmly telling everyone, including himself, that he had no doubt that Harry could defeat Voldemort, but was still sensitive enough to let Harry spend what might be the last week of his life – or Severus’ – in the way that he wanted. “Thank you,” he said, looking straight into Dumbledore’s light blue eyes for the first time. He got up, placed his empty tea cup on the Headmaster’s desk, and left.

 

As he’d expected, Severus was there, downstairs in his parlour, waiting for Harry, having been excused from classes himself.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Draco,” Seamus’ voice called, over the noise of Gryffindor Tower, “can you show me that again? I don’t think I did it properly.”

 

Draco put his book down and said, “What’s wrong with it?’

 

“It breaks too easily,” Seamus complained. The shimmering – well, shaking was more accurate – Shield spell around the Irish boy was about to collapse. Dean threw a light Reducto curse at it and the silver shield dissolved. “See?”

 

Draco consulted the previous page. “Let’s see… how did you pronounce the incantation?” he asked.

 

Seamus repeated it, fumbling.

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Well, there’s your problem, Finnegan,” he said. “You can’t pronounce Latin worth shite. How on earth have you gotten through six and a half years here without pronouncing your spells properly?”

 

“I usually help him,” Dean inserted, as Seamus glared.

 

“Listen, Ferret Boy,” he growled, “when Gaelic’s your first language, all the other ones look hard to pronounce, okay? Just tell me how to say it properly.”

 

And so it went. Hermione appeared after a while, and joined Draco in helping their fellow Tower-mates refresh their defensive spells. Ron appeared and impressed them all with his ability to disguise himself to look like a pole. It was a tricky, cross-over spell that combined transfiguration with stealth spells (such as the Disillusionment Charm). They only abandoned their review when Seamus and Draco started making snarky comments about how uses Hermione might find with Ron’s newfound ability.

 

Draco leaned back in his chair, stretched and yawned widely. “Where’s Harry?” he asked.

 

“Probably downstairs,” Ron said. “He was here for a bit after supper.”

 

“Where was I?”

 

“How should I know? Quidditch practice, maybe?”

 

“Oh, right. Hmm,” Draco said, “odd, to be thinking about quidditch right now, this week. It seems so… surreal, somehow.”

 

Ron nodded. Hermione stood up and said, “I’m going to be, guys. See you in a bit?” This last was just to Ron, who nodded.

 

“I’m actually pretty tired, too,” Ron admitted. “It’s after midnight.”

 

“I guess we’d better get some sleep, too,” Draco agreed.

 

“Look, mate,” Ron said. “Are you alright? It’s just that I know this is a lot to deal with. Are you dealing okay?”

 

Draco nodded. “Sure. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Seriously,” Ron said. “I mean, we’re talking about you killing your father. Honestly, Draco. That’s got to be, well, a big thing to be thinking about.”

 

“Well, it probably helps that I’ve been fantasizing about it for years,” Draco said acidly. He held out his hands, palms up. “Tell me what you see there,” he commanded.

 

Ron gave him a dubious look. “I was never one for Divination, mate, you know that.”

 

“No! I mean, just look at my hands and tell me if you see anything unusual.”

 

Still looking dubious, Ron bent over and studied Draco’s palms. “Oh… I see,” he said, in a different tone. “What are all those little lines?” He turned his face back up to see Draco’s response.

 

Draco pulled his hands away. “Those are scars,” he said. “Scars from the Cruciatus Curse. I first got it when I was five years old.”

 

Ron gaped. “From your father?”

 

“Whom else?”

 

“That’s barbaric!”

 

“It’s what I grew up with, Ron,” Draco said. “Do you understand? It won’t be that difficult for me to remember why I hate him enough to do this. I just hope that Harry can do the same.”

 

“It’s hard for him,” Ron said. “He’s a gentle person, really. I know you’ve pretty much just gotten to see his angrier side over the years, but he hates the thought of killing.”

 

“And I don’t?” Draco said. “It’s not about what kind of horrible person you are. It’s just something that has to be done. I think it would be right for me to deal with my father. And Harry has no choice about it being his job to do in Voldemort. I also happen to think it’s quite appropriate, given that said Dark Lord killed his parents and godfather.”

 

Ron was quiet, nodding. “I suppose you’re right,” he said after a while. “Still.”

 

“I know,” Draco said. He yawned again. “It’s past my bedtime,” he said, getting to his feet. Tucking his book under one arm, he said, “Good night,” and went upstairs to the seventh-year boys’ dorm.

 

“G’night,” Ron said, heading for the stairs leading to the Head Student dorm.

 

* * *

 

“Ginny?” Ginny looked up from the uneaten remains of her lunch to see Neville standing before her.

 

“Neville,” she said, surprised. “This is… a surprise.”

 

“Can I sit down?” 

 

“Sure, why not?” she answered, as though she didn’t care.

 

“Er – how are you… these days?” Neville asked awkwardly.

 

“Me? Oh, fine,” Ginny answered airily. She gave him a pointed look. “Not that you would know.”

 

Neville blushed. “Gin, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about our last fight.”

 

“The one that happened two months ago?” Ginny said coolly. “The one you haven’t talked to me about since it happened?”

 

“Yeah, that one,” Neville said, growing even redder. “I’m sorry that – that it’s taken me so long.”

 

Ginny looked at him. “So, why now?” she asked. “Why bother at all?”

 

Neville shifted uncomfortably. “I just thought, with all this going on, it would be good, if we were on good terms again.”

 

Ginny gave a derisive snort. “What, are you afraid I’ll ‘accidentally’ hex you in the crossfire?”

 

“No!” said Neville, then said, “Just – just, if one of us dies, or something – I wouldn’t have wanted there to be… this… between us, still.”

 

“Oh,” said Ginny in a quieter voice. “Well. So, you’re sorry. Is that it?”

 

“I shouldn’t have said most of those things I said,” Neville said quickly. “I’m really sorry. You were – better to me than you should have been. Better than I deserve.”

 

“Oh, come off it,” Ginny said, but her voice was gentler. “I said things I shouldn’t have said, too. I’m sorry, too.”

 

Neville looked relieved. “It’s okay,” he said. “Are you – do you think you’re ready, for this thing?”

 

“I don’t know,” Ginny admitted. “I guess you never do until you’re actually in the situation.”

 

Neville was quiet. “I admire Draco,” he said. “That takes guts.”

 

Ginny was very quiet, too. “Yes, it does,” she said.

 

“I want to do the same thing.”

 

Ginny looked at him, confused. “To your parents?”

 

“No! Because of my parents!” Neville exclaimed. “Bellatrix Lestrange!”

 

Realization dawned. “Ohhh…” Ginny said, feeling stupid. “Right. That makes sense.”

 

“It’ll be a real time of reckoning and revenge for a lot of us,” Neville said. Ginny realized that he was right. “Ginny?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are – are things okay with us, now?” Neville stammered.

 

“Yeah, we’re still friends,” Ginny said, sighing.

 

“Just friends?”

 

Ginny shot him a look. “Well, yeah,” she said. “I think that’s all we should be, don’t you?”

 

Neville was quiet for a bit. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?”

 

“Pretty much, yeah,” Ginny said, without nastiness.

 

“Do you like someone else?”

 

Ginny hesitated. “Yes,” she admitted, after a moment. “But I don’t think he likes me.”

 

“Is it Draco?”

 

Ginny looked up quickly. “Is it that obvious?”

 

“No, but I know you. I also think you’re probably wrong about his feelings,” Neville said. “I mean, I think he’s a very confused guy. But after this is all over, and he doesn’t have all that crap to deal with… you never know. It could happen.”

 

“And you’d be okay with that?” Ginny looked at Neville.

 

Neville shrugged. “Well, I know you’re right, you and I are over. You might as well be happy. And now that he’s changed, he’s a really decent guy.”

 

Ginny smiled for the first time in their conversation. “Thanks, Neville,” she said. “I guess we’ll just have to see. And what about you?” she turned the tables back on him.

 

Neville blushed. “Well – nothing’s happened or anything, but me and Luna – we – well, I don’t know, exactly,” he fumbled.

 

Ginny smiled understandingly. “Don’t worry,” she said. “When this is all over, things will probably get clearer.”

 

“Ginny, do you recall who we’re talking about?” Neville said. “Not exactly an easy girl to read!”

 

Ginny laughed.

 

* * *

 

Harry lay in the crook of Severus’ elbow, caressing his engagement ring with one finger. Severus’ body was warm against his back, down the backs of his legs. They had not moved since making love, but simply lay where they were, cherishing every moment of being together and feeling themselves together.

 

“Harry?” Severus’ voice was low and still a bit husky.

 

“Yes?”

 

Severus kissed the back of Harry’s neck, his warm breath in his hair. “Do you know the expression, to get one’s house in order?”

 

Harry thought. “Yeah, I think so. Doesn’t it basically mean getting your affairs in order before you die? Dealing with your will and all that?”

 

“Yes, but it refers more to your mental/emotion state,” Severus told him. “It means getting all your disputes settled, your relationships sorted out, like that.”

 

“Oh. Are you saying we should do that?”

 

“I just think it would be good if you told me if there is anything we still need to talk about, or resolve, or anything at all like that. I want your forgiveness, if there’s a place where I still need it.” Severus pressed his face into Harry’s neck, making him shiver.

 

Now Harry laughed. “Okay,” he said. “Why ever didn’t you just throw me to the ground and shag me like you did just now on my very first night of school?”

 

Severus, surprised, laughed, too. “You were eleven,” he reminded Harry.

 

“Fine, third year,” Harry amended. He pulled himself gently off Severus and twisted around in his lover’s arms, wanting to face him.

 

“Seriously, Harry. Is there anything?”

 

Harry thought for a long time. “I think I’ve already forgiven you for everything I used to be angry about,” he said. “You understand about Sirius now, you were actually saving my life in first year, and again in fifth year with Umbridge, plus you gave her fake Veritaserum that time… well, there was that one thing, in my fourth year, with the Triwizard Tournement, when my name was first pulled – you said something about how I was always crossing line – I was mad about that for a long time.”

 

“Still?”

 

Harry kissed him. “Of course not,” he said. “Besides, I think we crossed some lines jointly since then.”

 

“True,” Severus agreed, when they could speak again. “It’s probably not that common for a teacher to be engaged to his student.”

 

“I hate it when you call us that,” Harry complained.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“I forgive you,” Harry said, very melodramatically. He considered. “No, there’s really nothing,” he said. “We’ve talked so much, I think everything’s out in the open. Is there anything I need to apologize for?”

 

Severus thought, too. “No,” he said finally. There were times, Harry knew, when No was a terrible word, but now it was beautiful. He pressed his mouth to Severus’ again, wanting to drown himself in the heady sensation of being with Severus this intimately. Severus’ long fingers stroked Harry’s hip, in that way that made Harry hard every time. Severus gave a soft laugh as he realized what he’d done, again. Harry gave him a mock glare, and rolled over so that he was above Severus. He nudged his erection against his lover’s, eliciting that delicious moan Severus always gave when he did that. Without a word, Harry summoned the lubricant from the table at his side of the bed and applied it quickly.

 

“I guess we’re not going to sleep yet,” he said softly.

 

“Not if I can help it,” Severus said, almost in a growl. Harry loved that voice. Its low, throatiness almost did him in every time. He laid his body down on Severus’ and proceeded to kiss and lick every inch of skin he could reach. Severus gasped with pain when Harry bit his nipple – as he always did. Severus’ fingers, meanwhile, were caressing the crack of Harry’s ass, somehow he’d gotten into the lube without Harry even realizing it, and was sliding fingers (plural!!) inside him. It sped Harry’s process up considerably. He pushed Severus’ legs apart, and entered him quickly, hard. Severus’ fingers didn’t move from where they were. Harry began to thrust; long, smooth strokes, hitting against that spot, the spot that made Severus writhe, and he was writhing beneath Harry, moaning, but still working his fingers. He had never done that before, and Harry marvelled, fleetingly, at the amazing sensation of having Severus in him while being in Severus at the same time. Their mouths locked, and now another part of them was joined. Harry was breathing Severus’ air, straight from his lungs; the same breath was passing back and forth between the. Harry pulled his mouth away just long enough to crunch himself down to give a quick, viciously hard suck to Severus’ flaming erection. He returned his mouth to Severus’, then pulled away and did it again. It never took more than twice, when they were like this already. Severus cried out and came hugely, come splashing everything. Harry thrust a few more time, heard himself cry out, too, and came with a rush inside his fiancé.

 

“Merlin, Harry!” Severus gasped. “You are far too good at that! You get better at it all the time!”

 

Harry grinned wickedly and pulled himself out of Severus, laying himself across the older man. “I know,” he said. “That’s why you love me.”

 

Severus took Harry’s face in his hands. “No, you git, that is most certainly not why I love you!” he said. “I love you for a thousand reasons, none of which include the fact that you are an amazing lover. That is merely a side benefit.”

 

Harry laughed and allowed his head to be drawn down into a dizzying kiss. “I love you, too,” he said.

 

“Just because I am, as you’ve said, irresistible?”

 

“No,” Harry said. “Of course not. I love you for a thousand reasons, too. They’re hard to explain. It’s just that you’re you, and no one else is, so no one else will ever do.”

 

“Do you mean that?” Suddenly, Severus’ eyes were very dark and very opaque.

 

Harry looked at him. “Of course I do!”

 

“What if I die?” His voice was quiet.

 

“You won’t die.”

 

“I could.”

 

“You won’t die, Severus, I couldn’t bear it. You have to survive, just for my sake.”

 

“But what if I did? Would you never love again?”

 

Harry attempted to imagine this, and failed. “No. I can’t even imagine it,” he said. “If you die, Severus, I’m going with you, and that’s that.”

 

Severus smiled reluctantly. “Don’t say that,” he said. “You’re young. You’re full of life. You should live, if you survive and I don’t.”

 

“Stop saying that! Besides, you can’t stop me.” Harry got an extremely stubborn look on his face, one Severus knew better than to argue with.

 

“Fine, then I guess I’ll have to live if I want to win this one,” he said teasingly.

 

“That’s right,” Harry told him, tracing the outline of his lips. “For our sake. Not just mine. You deserve a bit of good, decent life, too.”

 

“And just what makes you think a lifetime of you will make my life decent?” Severus retorted.

 

“Oh, that does it! Now you’re just begging for it!” Harry said, laughing. “Besides, it’s not me who put this ring on my finger, now was it?”

 

“No,” said Severus, “but as far as begging for it goes… I believe it’s my turn, anyway.”

 

Harry laughed again. “So much for sleeping,” he said, rolling onto his back and pulling Severus over him.

 

“Admit it, love, this is vastly preferable to sleep.”

 

Severus began doing things that made it very difficult for Harry to talk normally. “That – would be – hard – not to – admit – oh, Merlin, do that again! Oh, Severus… don’t stop doing that – I’ll die if you stop doing that right now – OH my – yessss…”

 

And so it went. The rest of Hogwarts was quiet, with the exception of Albus Dumbledore, who was pacing his office into the small hours of the night.


	23. Till Death Do We Part

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: still don’t own these characters

 

Chapter 23: Till Death Do We Part

 

The next few days passed with frightening speed. Harry and his friends alternated between testing each other’s defensive spells, hexes, jinxes, curses, and stealth. In successive meetings, Dumbledore had trained them in how to appear invisible. Well, not exactly – he had merely lent them some of his own powers, temporarily, without ever explaining exactly how it worked, or how he himself was able to be invisible without a cloak.

 

During these times, they tended to talk very quickly, checking their information, planning against certain strategies the Death Eaters might use, and so forth.

 

The rest of the time, they were depressingly quiet, thinking. Always thinking. Finally, it was the last evening. The evening before the day. Harry and Draco were surprised to see Ron get up, breaking the silence in the Gryffindor common room (everyone else had gone to bed), kneel in front of Hermione and take her hand, in what seemed an uncharacteristically suave manner. Harry noted the fluid grace with which Ron had dropped to the position, and decided his best friend must have practised – Ron was very athletic, but graceful movement had never been his strong suit.

 

“Hermione,” he said, very seriously, as Hermione’s eyes went round with surprise, “I love you. You know that. I don’t know what’s going to happen the day after tomorrow, but if we both survive, will you promise to marry me someday?”

 

Harry and Draco exchanged a shocked look. The proposal itself was not unexpected (as Ron and Hermione had been nearly joined at the hip since summer), but the suddenness, as well as doing it in front of themselves, that bit was unexpected.

 

Hermione’s brown eyes filled. “Yes!” she said quickly. “Oh, Ron, I love you, too! No matter what happens, I’ll always love you!” She threw her arms around his neck in what looked like a strangling hug. Ron didn’t seem to be complaining, though.

 

When they finally broke apart, Ron set her gently back on her chair, and said, “Hermione, I just wanted to tell you that I asked you that now, with Harry and Draco here, deliberately. I’ve been waiting for a time when the four of us were alone together. They are our best friends, and I wanted you to know that I am prouder than I can say to be engaged to you, and I want everyone to know. Also, it’s apparently official pureblood custom to have witnesses at an engagement – I know you don’t really like all that rot, but it would make my parents happy. I couldn’t think of people I would rather have had,” he added, looking at Harry and Draco over Hermione’s shoulder.

 

Hermione nodded, smiling. “It’s fine,” she said, turning to beam at the other two.

 

“I – I also have this for you,” Ron said, taking a small box out of his pocket and holding it out to Hermione. She took it from him and opened it, gasping in wonder. It looked to Harry like a fairly standard muggle engagement ring; white gold or platinum, with a square-cut clear diamond catching the light in sparkling facets. It was beautiful, though Harry supposed that one always felt their own to be the loveliest.

 

Hermione held it back to Ron without a word, holding out her left hand. Ron took the ring out of the little box and slid it onto her fourth finger. She bent toward him and whispered to him for several moments, some of which made Ron’s face very red.

 

A little later, they were all still there. “This is so surreal,” Draco said, staring into the fire. “I can’t believe it’s so soon.”

 

“I know,” Hermione said, twisting her ring lovingly. “It could be the end of everything.”

 

“Stop that,” Harry commanded. “It’s just going to be the beginning of everything. Okay? No more defeatist talk. This is a trap that our side has planned. We’ve set the terms, and we are going to win. Is that clear?”

 

All three of them looked at him in surprise. “What?” Harry said. “We will win. We must. That hope is all we’re living for right now, right? So let’s make it real. We can’t afford to be afraid, or to doubt ourselves.”

 

Draco looked at his friend with admiration. “You know, Harry,” he said, “if I hadn’t been able to admit how very much I admire you before we got to be friends, I think I’d have to, now. You’re totally right. Chins up, all. Let’s go into this thing strong.”

 

There was a knock at the portrait. Harry glanced at the clock. It was past one. He went to open it, knowing who it was. Severus stood there, out in the shadows. He didn’t say anything, just devoured Harry with his dark gaze. Harry turned and looked over his shoulder at his friends. “I’m going downstairs now,” he said simply, and they all nodded, accepting it. Harry slipped out of the tower and stepped forward into his lover’s embrace. “I was just about to come down,” he said, with a low laugh.

 

“I want to go to bed,” Severus said, smiling sheepishly, “and I know I can’t sleep without you. Git.”

 

Harry slipped his arm through Severus’. It was far too late for anyone else to be up and about. “I’m insulted that you would even try,” he chastised. “You know I would have come. We were bonding up there.”

 

“Oh?” Severus inquired, though Harry thought he detected a note of feeling left out. “And what did I miss?”

 

“Ron asked Hermione to marry him some day,” Harry said.

 

“And I assume she accepted, did she?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Did Weasley manage a romantic proposal, at least?”

 

“Actually, yes,” Harry said. “I was surprised that he asked her in front of Draco and I, but he explained about the pureblood witness thing, which makes sense.”

 

Severus looked at him. “Do you wish that we’d had witnesses?” he asked.

 

“No!” Harry said. “It was perfect as it was. You know that!” He squeezed Severus’ arm affectionately.

 

Severus looked around, then stopped Harry in a patch of moonlight in the hall, coming in through a high window. Slowly, deliberately, he placed his hands on Harry’s waist and his mouth on Harry’s, kissing him long, gently, and unhurriedly. Harry immersed himself in the kiss completely, not caring at this point if they were caught. They might have less than twenty-four hours left. What did it matter?

 

When it was over, Harry looked his fiancé in the eye, their faces still only inches apart, and said, very firmly, “I love you, Severus. I will always love you and only you. Forever.”

 

Severus smiled, and Harry thought again about how different the man looked when he did that; a completely different person than the bitter, resentful man he’d encountered in his first year at Hogwarts. “I love you, too, Harry,” he said, a slight catch in his voice. “Always, only you, my love. Always.”

 

And, much later, in the deep comfort of the bed they had shared for nearly eight months, Severus whispered, his face just far enough from Harry’s to look down into it, his weight sweet on Harry’s body, “Remember this, my love. When you are in doubt, remember this. Remember us. I believe in you. I believe in us. We will be together like this again.”

 

“Soon?” Harry whispered.

 

“Very soon.” Severus’ voice was reassuring. Promising.

 

“Severus…” Harry’s arms tightened around his lover. “I love you. I won’t forget this.”

 

“I know that, my love.”

 

* * *

 

It was supper. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco sat tensely at the table, waiting, trying to force themselves to eat. Even Ron could not manage it. Dumbledore had told them that Lucius was arriving sometime after supper. Dumbledore had arranged a signal to let the other students and staff know when to put the plan into action. They had gone over everything a million times, it felt like. The non-Hogwarts Order members who were coming were already there, waiting in Dumbledore’s office.

 

The next moment, Dumbledore caught Draco’s eye and nodded. Draco stood abruptly. He looked at his friends. “Well, this is it,” he said tensely. “Thank you all, in advance, for doing this. I expect to see you all afterward. I must go. He is here.” He quickly took in their encouraging looks, looking at Harry last. Harry simply held his gaze, trying to communicate strength, courage, and power. Draco nodded, turned and quickly strode off, his hand clenched around his wand in his robe pocket. Once he had left the Hall, a feather-shaped flash of fire appeared in the air before Harry, Ron and Hermione, and Harry could see others like it at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, as well as the staff table.

 

“That’s it,” he said, his heart racing. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

They stood and went quickly to the room behind the staff table. Luckily, dinner was nearly over anyway, and most of the other students were already gone. Harry opened the door and went inside. He glanced at his friends. Ron asked, “So, we wait until everyone’s here before we go invisible, right?” Hermione nodded tensely.

 

The door opened and Severus came in, white as death. He looked around the room, and seeing no one else but Harry, Ron and Hermione thus far, went quickly to stand behind Harry, whispering in his ear, “Remember last night.” Harry nodded, the tension in his body not fading, but changing, somehow. Becoming manageable. Harry was distracted from his thoughts just then as Moody, Tonks, Kingsley and Arthur Weasley all came in.

 

The door opened again, and a number of the other students, as well as Lupin, Sprout, McGonagall and finally Dumbledore entered. “Take your places,” Dumbledore said. He looked around. “Who are we missing?” The door opened again, and the last remaining students entered. Dumbledore counted under his breath. “Just the Weasley twins left,” he said. The door burst open and Fred and George appeared. “Good,” said Dumbledore. “Take your places,” he said again, for the benefit of the late-comers. “Thank you. Assume invisibility. I will make us all undetectable as well. Please remember to keep silence.”

A heavy silence fell as they waited for Draco to enter the room to wait for Lucius. After several nerve-wracking moments, the doorknob turned, and Draco entered. He gave the briefest of glances to the seemingly-empty room, and sat down with an air of studied non-chalance at the small wooden table in the room. A single candle sat on the table. Harry watched Draco drum his fingers, then stop himself, folding his fingers together to still his nervous energy.

 

The door opened again, and Lucius Malfoy strode in. The tension in the room was palpable, though Harry was willing to bet that it would have been, even without the extra twenty-seven concealed people there. Lucius gave Draco a cursory glance and sat down across from him at the table. “Draco.”

 

“Good evening, Father,” Draco said, and Harry was relieved to hear Draco’s cool, controlled tones.

 

“Yes, it will be a good evening,” said Lucius in a steely voice. “You will make me proud tonight, my son. It has been too long.”

 

Draco did not wince. “Tell me what will happen,” he requested, in a careful, polite tone.

 

“It is very simple. We take a portkey. You receive the rites which will make you a Death Eater.”

 

Draco forced a laugh. “That’s not very detailed, Father. What portkey will we take, and when? Will it bring me back here afterward, or will we take a different one? Will it be spelled for a certain time? I just want to be sure that my absence will not be too prolonged. Dumbledore, curse him, is always watching me these days. For good reason, I might add. If he knew this were about to happen, I should not like to consider the consequences.”

 

Lucius considered this, surveying his only son with cool detachment. “Alright,” he said, deciding. He withdrew a silver quill from his pocket. “This will be the portkey,” he said. “It is spelled to take us to the Dark Lord’s side in ten minutes. It is spelled to return you here, but not for any given time. I do not know exactly how long the rites will last, and I would not presume to guess.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“That,” Lucius said with definitiveness, “I will not tell you. Nor am even I certain. I am familiar with the location itself, but I do not know exactly where it is.”

 

Draco looked at his Father. “Will the rites hurt me?” he asked in a softer voice.

 

Lucius shrugged indifferently and studied his fingernails. “Perhaps,” he said. He shot Draco a malicious look. “It shouldn’t be anything you’re not used to,” he sneered.

 

Draco nodded, accepting. Then, in a very calm voice, he said, “Petrificus Totalus.” Harry hadn’t even seen Draco take out his wand, but there it was, pointing at Lucius, as the latter froze in his chair. Had he been standing, Harry knew, he would have fallen over. As it was, the full body-bind curse simply bound him to the chair. His body could not have fallen over if it had tried. Lucius’ had not even had time to draw his wand.

 

Now Draco searched his father’s frame. “Expelliarmus,” he said, still very calm. Although Lucius was incapable of movement, Harry thought he could see the rage practically boiling in Lucius’ wide, cold eyes.

 

“That’s better,” Draco said. “Now, Father, I have a few things to say. I’ll make them quick, since I have a portkey to catch, along with a few friends. First, thanks for nothing in terms of my upbringing. You almost succeeded in making me as horrible a person as yourself. I do not consider myself your son, and count myself lucky for it. You are no longer my father. And as far as the whole deal with forcing me to join Voldemort – yes, I know I said it, and I’ll say it again, as I watch my friends triumph over his dead form – and as far as all the years you tortured me, nearly to death, I might add – for your information, the Cruciatus does leave scars, you see them? – this is all I have to say. Good bye, Lucius.” Draco hesitated for just a moment, then aimed his wand at his father’s heart. He summoned all his strength, and said, “Avada Kedavra.”

 

A shot of green light burst from Draco’s wand and hit Lucius square in the heart. The rage in the steely eyes faded and became nothing.

 

Dumbledore suddenly appeared, and dashed to Draco’s side, putting one hand on Draco’s shaking shoulder, and at the same time looking down on Lucius’ form. “Finite,” he said, removing the body-bind. Lucius’ still form did not move of its own volition, but slid off the chair and onto the form, lifeless and unmoving. Dumbledore turned to Draco now. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

 

“I had to do it,” Draco said, and his voice was steady. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Dumbledore searched his eyes. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

 

Draco shook his head stubbornly. “No,” he said. “Let’s finish this. I want to go. We have a job to do. That was just step one.”

 

Dumbledore probed the intense young man. “Are you certain?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Draco said. He looked down on the form of his father. “He never loved me,” he said. “And I never loved him. It’s alright.”

 

Dumbledore nodded, understanding. He checked the clock on the wall and turned to the others. “You may appear,” he said. “We have approximately four minutes. Come over here.”

 

The group unsheathed itself from the invisibility spell and moved in clusters toward the old wizard. “Join hands. This portkey is too small for all of us to be touching it. Trust Lucius,” he added.

 

Severus was on Harry’s right and Ron on his left, with Hermione on his other side. Ginny stood next to Hermione, and Draco wedged himself into the circle between her and Seamus. When they were all holding hands, Dumbledore and Lupin, at the ends of the circle, picked up the quill together. “Just a few moments now,” Dumbledore said. They waited. Harry looked at Ron. He could not bring himself to look at Severus, but feeling an actual heat in the ring his lover wore, throbbing into Harry’s right hand.

 

And then it came. A howling whirl of wind and confusion and disorientation, and then they were struggling to keep their footing. Severus did not stagger and helped Harry stay on his feet. They were on the outskirts of a dark grove. It was very dark and quite cold, and the wind was blowing hard in the trees. It looked to be late autumn, perhaps November, wherever it was. Despite it being early spring at Hogwarts. Harry heard Severus draw in his breath. “Do you know this place?” he whispered, making as little noise as possible.

 

Severus nodded. “I have not been here in nearly twenty years,” he said. He nodded with his head in the direction of a clearing. “They will be there,” he said. Dumbledore caught Severus’ eye along with the nod, which he returned.

 

“Follow me,” he said. He turned to look back at Harry. “Harry,” he said. “Be careful.”

 

Harry nodded at the Headmaster. “Let’s go,” he said. Draco stationed himself on Harry’s left (Severus had not budged from his right), and Ron and Hermione walked closely behind him. As they walked, Dumbledore’s power grew visibly. By the time they reached the grove, the old wizard was nearly radiating silver light. Power. Harry felt stronger.

 

Dumbledore stepped into the clearing. “Tom!” he called, his voice ringing.

 

Harry looked around, trying to let his eyes adjust to the dim of the firelight in the grove. He could see shadowy Death Eaters, cloaked and waiting, hanging back. In the center, closest to the fire, was Voldemort. A shiver of panic ran through Harry. Severus and Draco both seemed to feel it and responded to it. Draco nudged Harry’s elbow with his own, as though to just remind his friend that he was there, and Severus simply moved closer to Harry’s side.

 

Voldemort’s eyes were red and glowing. When they tracked down the source of the call, they widened visibly. “Dumbledore!” he hissed. The Death Eaters all made sounds of fear and disapproval. “Where is Lucius?” he spat.

 

“I am afraid that he was been rather permanently detained,” Dumbledore said politely. He raised his wand. “Petrificus Totalus.”

 

Antonin Dolohov dashed forward and deflected the spell with a Shield spell conjured with a swiftness that Harry was forced to admire. The body-bind curse was deflected and bounced off into the grass. Voldemort laughed. “Is that the best you can do?” he called. “Pathetic, Dumbledore, really!”

 

“Oh, no, Tom,” Dumbledore said, pleasantly enough. “I think we will find that it is you who are pathetic. There will be no victory for you or your followers tonight. This is the end, Tom.”

 

“Don’t call me that!” Voldemort hissed. “I gave up that name long ago! As you should remember!”

 

Dumbledore nodded. “Indeed, I do remember, Tom,” he said calmly. “It was then that you also gave up many other qualities, such as mercy, wisdom, understanding, patience, decency. I am afraid that I have gotten rather tired of disciplining you over the years. Tonight will be the last night, Tom.”

 

“Avada – ” Voldemort began, but Lupin shot a Reductor curse at the killing curse. The two bolts of fire melded and fell, hissing, into the grass. “Someone deal with the werewolf!” Voldemort snarled.

 

Dolohov moved forward and began to duel with Lupin. At the same moment, Rudolphus Lestrange shot something at McGonagall who, with Sprout as her second, deflected it and began to duel. Soon, the Death Eaters were swarming them. Bellatrix Lestrange was upon Harry and Draco instantly, not seeming to notice Severus still with them. “So, little Malfoy,” she shrieked, “you’ve killed your father, have you?”

 

“I did,” Draco said, conjuring a Shield spell around the three of them. “And we’ll do the same with you before the night’s out, you hag!”

 

“Immobilus,” Severus said, stepping away from the Shield in order to still Bellatrix’ movements.

 

“No!” Neville cried, and ran forward. “Leave her to me!”

 

Severus looked at him, exchanging a look with Harry. “Alright,” he said. “Draco. Help him, if he needs it. Protect him.” Draco nodded, and moved into second position behind Neville.

 

In the dim light, Harry could see Kingsley battling with MacNair, the Weasley twins hexing Rudolphus now, Bill helping Charlie to his feet from where Nott had blasted him to the ground, Seamus and Dean shouting taunts at Crabbe and Goyle, Parvati shrieking as Jugson did something which caused both Padma and Lavendar to scream and fall. Meanwhile, he did not have a chance to watch Neville’s duel with Bellatrix, though he could hear Draco’s shouts now and then. Where were Ron and Hermione? Oh, still with him. Good. And Voldemort. Voldemort was watching Harry, with a look more hungry than Harry could imagine. It made him feel intensely uncomfortable. And afraid. Merlin. He had been a fool to think there was even a chance that he could survive this. How could he possibly defeat those glowing eyes, which were drawing ever nearer to where he stood, rooted to the ground, afraid to take his eyes off the battles around him, but unable to run away from the predator approaching.

 

“Harry… Potter,” Voldemort said softly, his high, cold voice carrying through the noise. “You have taken my favourite servant from me. I see that you have, protecting you, the traitorous son of my servant and the one man who has ever defied me by leaving my service. You will all pay. All three of you.”

 

Harry was still frozen. Suddenly, Severus’ words came back to him from the night before. Remember this, my love. When you are in doubt, remember this. Remember us. I believe in you. There was no choice. “No,” he said. “No, Voldemort. You will pay tonight, for everything that you have done.”

 

Voldemort gave a shrieking laugh. “You are very amusing, Potter,” he spat. “But I would find it far more amusing to watch you die the way I watched your father die… but not just yet. It always bothered me that I didn’t make James suffer more, first. There was so much we could have done together, for my amusement. And then Lily. Ah, Lily… she was a beautiful woman, Harry – but you wouldn’t know that, would you now?”

 

Harry felt the rage rising in him. He did not connect this with the fact that the wind was suddenly blowing a great deal harder around them. “I know who my parents were,” he snarled. “And I know that you’ll never defeat me, Voldemort. You never did get to hear the Prophecy, did you? But I did. I heard it from Dumbledore’s Pensieve, and you don’t even know what it said,” he ground out. “I’m going to win tonight, Voldemort. That’s what it said. And that’s why we’re here.”

 

Voldemort’s eyes grew wide. “No!” he said. “That cannot be! I am far too powerful for a useless rag of a half-blood boy like yourself! There is no way, Potter!”

 

Harry grinned widely, though still angry about the taunt. “’Fraid so,” he said. “Too bad you never heard the part about how you’d accidentally give the child born as the seventh month died powers of your own, eh? That might have been worth knowing. Attacking me as an infant has only served to make me your equal and then some. Ironic, isn’t it?”

 

Voldemort’s fury was reaching the boiling point. “No!” he hissed. “No!”

 

“Yes!” Harry retorted, and shot an Impedimenta jinx at Voldemort, who (to his surprise) tripped and fell.

 

He picked himself up, hissing and spitting, beside himself with rage. Harry noticed, with a twinge of alarm, that he seemed larger now. Taller. More menacing. Harry was suddenly distracted from this observation by the sound of Neville screaming with pain.

 

“Neville!” Draco’s voice cried in alarm. Harry did not want to take his eyes off Voldemort, but he noticed that the Dark Lord was also looking to see what was happening.

 

Neville was lying on the ground, clutching his ribs. His robes were spattered with blood. Draco was bending over him, his wand pointed at Bellatrix.

 

“No!” Neville gasped. “Let me! I must!”

 

“No, Neville, you’re hurt – ”

 

“Draco, get out of the way!” Neville’s voice rasped. He was holding his wand with a shaking hand. “You killed the people my parents were, don’t deny it!” he shouted at Bellatrix.

 

She cackled evilly. “You forget to mention how much I enjoyed it!” she said, laughing still harder.

 

Harry saw an expression he had never seen before on Neville’s face: raw fury. He steadied his shaking wand hand and shouted, “Avada Kedavra!” The expected jet of green light shot out and hit Bellatrix in the face. She screamed and toppled. She writhed on the ground, still screaming in pain.

 

“Come, Neville!” Draco shouted, pulling him up. “Go on and finish her!”

 

“It didn’t work!” Neville sounded shocked and furious with himself.

 

“Just do it again!”

 

Neville allowed Draco to pull him to his feet and hobbled over to Bellatrix’ squirming form, still clutching at his bleeding side. “Avada Kedavra!” he gasped. Another jet of green light erupted from his wand, hitting Bellatrix’ chest. She was still.

 

“POTTER!” Voldemort roared. Harry’s head snapped back around to Voldemort, and involuntarily took several steps backward. Voldemort had grown even taller, now towering at about fifteen feet, and wider than he had been, too. Harry was terrified.

 

“If I can’t win here,” Voldemort bellowed, “then I will certainly make the rest of your life as unbearable as possible. What would you say, Potter, if I killed young Mr. Weasley and his pretty little Mudblood friend there?”

 

“No!” Harry shouted, now noticing the wind blowing harder again. “Leave them alone!”

 

“Crucio,” said a nasal voice from just behind them. Ron fell down, screaming in pain, as Wormtail held his wand over him.

 

“Now the other!” Voldemort commanded.

 

Wormtail turned his attentions on Hermione, who collapsed on top of Ron, screaming her agony.

 

“No!” Draco ran forward, having deposited Neville safely in the trees. He pointed his wand at Wormtail and yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!” Wormtail fell down.

 

“I will deal with you in a minute,” Voldemort hissed at him, “my precious, dead acolyte! But first, I want to see how Potter will react if I curse his lover there – yes, boy, I know – it is patently obvious. Don’t think I don’t recognize that abominable power that you are so full of, Potter. What? What is the problem? Do you love him, Potter? Were you hoping to live happily ever after with him? He’s no prize, you know – I could have told you that. But now, it seems, you’ll have the chance to choose more wisely in the future.” And while Harry stood panicking, wondering what to do, Voldemort pointed his wand at Severus at boomed, “Avada Kedavra!”

 

“Harry!” Dumbledore shouted, even as Voldemort’s voice rang out, cursing Dolohov as he ran. “Moody! Take over!” Moody ran forward to meet Dolohov as Dumbledore joined Harry. But he was too late.

 

A jet of green light shot out and hit Severus square in the chest. For a split second, it wreathed his entire body in green flame, and even as he fell, his wide, dark eyes met Harry’s in a moment that seemed to last an eternity. And then he was gone, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud.

 

“Noooo!!!” Harry screamed. He felt like his very breath had been ripped away. He couldn’t think couldn’t react; all he could do was stare in shock and disbelief at Severus’ still form. It had happened. The very worst thing. He dropped to his knees at Severus’ side. “Severus,” he said, shaking him, “Merlin, please, anything, don’t let him be dead, please, Severus, please – ! You know I can’t live without you! Please! Goddamn it! Wake up!”

 

“Harry!” Draco said, as Ron and Hermione watched Harry with shocked and grief-stricken looks. “Come on! You’ve got to – !”

 

“No!” Harry said. He bent over Severus and kissed him, refusing to believe his lover was gone. But there was nothing, no response. Nothing. It was all gone. He stared into the open, obsidian eyes, and told himself that it was all over.

 

“Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly, his voice catching, drawing Harry’s attention back to the fact that Voldemort was still there. Voldemort. Harry looked up at the towering, sneering, salivating Dark Lord. The person responsible for killing his parents in the flower of the youth, for trying to kill an innocent baby, for successfully killing hundreds and thousands of other innocent people, adults and children alike, and now, for taking away all the happiness Harry had ever known.

 

“Expelliarmus!” Draco and Ron yelled together, Ron still on the ground. Harry barely noticed as Voldemort’s wand span away from him.

 

A fury like he had never known possessed him. Harry felt it rise in him and expand far beyond him. A furious outpouring of rain suddenly began to hammer down on them, and the sky was rent with lightning. “You – !” Harry started, and found that he was too angry to even form words. His rage, he remembered dimly. Yes. Rage. He knew that. Harry summoned forth all of his rage and focussed it into his wand, vaguely aware that the storm had subsided, though the wind was still howling. There. Channelled. “Avada Kedavra!” Harry yelled, and was startled to hear that his voice seemed to fill the sky itself.

 

There was a shriek of furious terror. He looked up to see Voldemort’s body burst into flame. Still shrieking, he staggered backwards and fell into the fire. His body exploded hugely. The remaining Death Eaters who were still fighting the Aurors and students screamed and grasped their left forearms. One by one, they all fell to the ground, and their bodies shrivelled into black ash.

 

“It’s over,” Harry heard Hermione’s voice say in wonder, but everything was swirling before him. His hearing seemed to be fading.

 

“Harry!” He saw Dumbledore’s old, lined face peering into his anxiously, and he wanted to say something, but the shock and grief and horror overtook him, and he felt himself slipping toward the shadows. Severus. Gone. Nothing left. Harry gave way to the darkness, and saw no more.


	24. In the Hospital Wing

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Disclaimer: I own only what you don’t recognize

 

Chapter 24: In the Hospital Wing

 

Harry woke slowly, his sense of hearing returning before anything else. Soft voices murmuring… saying his name. He tried to open his eyes, but felt that he was trapped in a deep, dark pit that he couldn’t climb out of. He strained his memory, trying to think, trying to remember why it was that he felt this way. A thunderstorm… right, the Death Eaters… Voldemort, enormous – Voldemort burning, the Death Eaters crumbling… Severus. There it was. The enormous weight of Harry’s grief slammed back into him and he gave up trying to get out of his dark pit. Hadn’t he said he wanted to die, to follow Severus? And here he was. Alive. Was he? He thought so. If this was death, it was a real rip off, he figured. If he was dead, surely Severus would be there.

 

“Harry.”

 

Harry managed to blink a few times. His eyes felt gritty, like they’d been closed for a long, long time. Finally he was able to open them and squint at the face above him. It was blurry. Long white hair. Long silver beard. Ah. Dumbledore. “Where am I?” he croaked. His sense of feel returned, and he realized that he was cold, and in a fair bit of pain. Shivering. He heard someone click her tongue and felt another blanket being draped over him.

 

“You’re in the hospital wing, Harry,” Dumbledore said. His voice was quiet, but there was something else in it that Harry, in his confused state, could not identify.

 

Harry closed his eyes again. “I want to die,” he mumbled. “Why couldn’t you’ve just let me die?”

 

“How do you feel, Harry?”

 

Harry opened his eyes and glared with what feeble force he could muster. “How can you ask me that?!”

 

“I meant physically,” Dumbledore said quickly.

 

Harry thought, then realized he didn’t care, could not possibly care less. “Not good,” he said, and closed his eyes again.

 

“In what way? Are you cold? Are you in pain? Are you very tired?” Dumbledore’s voice was gentle, but insistent.

 

“What does it matter? Yes, to all of them. Leave me alone.” Harry closed his eyes again. All he wanted was Severus, how could Dumbledore not realize that? He didn’t want to talk to anyone, or see anyone, he just wanted to slip back into the darkness that had held him until this point.

 

“Harry, listen to me. Things aren’t as they seem.”

 

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. Furious with himself, but unable to control it, his eyes filled and began to spill over. “What is THAT supposed to mean?” he bit out. “I hope this isn’t some speech about learning to carry on and all that, that I still have my whole life to live, et cetera, because I don’t want to hear it! Don’t you understand that all I wanted, the ONLY thing I’ve ever wanted, is to be with him? Was that SO much to ask?” Though his voice was loud, shouting, Harry was sobbing now, and turned onto his side to bury his face in the pillow, despite the lancing pains that shot through him as he did so.

 

“Harry, he’s not dead.”

 

This stilled Harry’s sobs. “What?” he said, knowing it couldn’t be true. What was Dumbledore playing at? He’d seen Severus fall with his own eyes, felt the breath leave him, seen the look of death on his pale, beautiful face.

 

“We worked out a spell, he and I,” Dumbledore said urgently, “so that it would appear as his death. We finally, at the end of everything, found a way to temporarily block the killing curse.”

 

“How?” Harry demanded. “And if you knew how to do it, why didn’t you do it for the rest of us?”

 

“Please allow me to explain,” Dumbledore said. “The spell we uncovered could only work through a bond of love. It required the lover of the victim to kill the killer. Severus and I had been discussing your worries about not being able to perform the killing curse yourself. We worked out this spell in order for either of you to save the other’s life – for had you not killed Voldemort, Severus would indeed be dead. We – I – thought it might be the only way to arouse enough rage within you to give you the power to do it. Rightly, it seems,” he added.

 

Harry attempted to digest this. “You tricked me,” he said flatly.

 

“No, Harry! I was only trying to help you – and save you! You know that if you had not killed Voldemort, then you and Severus would both be dead. Isn’t this better? That you live? And if Voldemort had gotten to you, then perhaps Severus would have been able to save you and allow you another chance. Do you understand?”

 

“I think so,” said Harry, then, “Where is he? I want to see him, now!”

 

“He is sleeping,” Dumbledore said. “Just down that way. He has been recovering, like yourself. The way the spell worked was that the curse entered his heart, as they always do, was re-bounded throughout his body by the force of love in his heart, and by the force of commitment as shown by the rings you both wear, the curse was simply extinguished. But not before it caused rather enough damage to be getting on with. He is alright, Harry, don’t worry yourself about that. Madam Pomfrey estimates that by evening, at least one of you should be able to get up and see the other.”

 

The sheer relief of it made Harry quite weak, and, to his humiliation, his eyes filled with tears again. It was not too late. Severus was alive, Voldemort was gone, and they would be able to be together, at last. Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward and opened his arms. Harry sat up and leaned into them, sobbing into Dumbledore’s shoulder. Dumbledore patted his back gently, murmuring, “It’s alright now, Harry, it’s alright. And I cannot tell you how extremely proud I am of you. We never really doubted, any of us, that you could do it, and you have.”

 

“I’m a killer,” Harry said through his tears, muffled against the Headmaster’s shoulder.

 

“And so are Draco, Neville, Lupin, Moody, and, indirectly, Severus,” Dumbledore pointed out. “It was necessary, Harry. Let it go.”

 

Harry was still at this information. “Who did Lupin kill?” he asked.

 

“Remus killed Rookwood and Avery both,” Dumbledore told him.

 

“And Moody?”

 

“Dolohov. Let it go, Harry, it’s all over now. You’re free of all of this now. It is just the beginning of everything.”

 

“But the others? Are they okay?”

 

“The other students, and so forth? Yes. Yes, they are all going to be okay, at least. Padma Patil and Lavendar Brown have sustained some rather serious injuries, as well as Charlie Weasley. The rest have suffered only minor injuries. I’m afraid that Alastor has a few new burns on his face. He was really the only one who could match Dolohov.” Dumbledore smiled, and released Harry. “Sleep now, my son,” he said softly. “You’ve earned the right to rest.”

 

“Will you call me if he wakes?” Harry murmured, like a child, already feeling sleep steal over him.

 

“Of course. I’ll be here,” Dumbledore promised.

 

* * *

Harry woke again, a pool of moonlight flooding his bed. Like the corridor with Severus, the night before the battle. He had to think hard to remember where he was and what had happened again. He remembered it all. Severus. Was he awake yet? He sat up gingerly, testing, and found, to his surprise, that he felt alright. Strange, he thought, that he had never asked what had been wrong with him. Probably something scar-related, he thought, and reached up to feel his scar. He couldn’t feel anything. Harry patted about until he located his glasses, found them, and put them on. Reaching for a small mirror that he spotted near his glasses, Harry examined his forehead in the moonlight. His scar was gone. He put down the mirror and looked around. Dumbledore was asleep in his chair, but stirred as Harry began to get out of bed.

 

“Harry!” Dumbledore started. “I’m sorry! I must have just drifted off.”

 

“How is he?”

 

“I will go and check,” Dumbledore said. He fixed Harry with a steely eye, saying, “You stay here. You’re not up to moving around yet.” Harry nodded reluctantly and stayed put. Dumbledore went behind some rollaway curtains and seemed to hold a small conference. He came back. “It seems that Severus is not up to moving yet, either, but he requests that your beds be put together so that you can talk to each other. Madam Pomfrey and I will do this now, if you have no objections?” He laughed at the look on Harry’s face, and said, “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” and quickly strode away again.

 

Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey first came and set up rollaway curtains all around Harry’s bed, which was at the end of a corridor, then very slowly, very carefully rolled Severus’ bed over to Harry’s. Dumbledore put silencing spells all over the area and the two of them tactfully closed the gap and departed. “Severus!” Harry said, propping himself up on one elbow.

 

His lover was as pale as death, but managed to open his dark eyes. “Harry?”

 

“You’re alive!” Harry reached out and very gently touched Severus’ face, not wanting to hurt him.

 

“Of course I am,” Severus murmured, attempting his old arrogance. “I told you I would be.”

 

“You git! Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through, here?” Harry demanded, though his voice was quite gentle.

 

Severus smiled. He didn’t seem able to move, but when Harry put his hand over Severus’, he felt a slight pressure returned. “Silly boy,” Severus said softly. “I told you I would never leave you. I will never leave you.”

 

Harry felt the ridiculous tears returning. He gently moved closer, glad that Pomfrey had thought to latch their beds together before she’d left. He moved himself until he was lying along Severus’ side, trying not to lean on him. “And you took death into your body, for me,” he said, just as softly.

 

“As you would have done for me,” Severus said.

 

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Harry asked.

 

“Oh, just a bit,” Severus murmured sarcastically, smiling.

 

“Will it hurt you if I kiss you?” Harry asked.

 

“Do you think I could possibly care about that? Get over here,” Severus directed, still in a half-murmur.

 

Harry laughed shakily, lifted himself so that he was hovering over his fiancé and very gently lowered his lips on Severus’. The last time he’d done that, he’d thought it was the last time. That he’d lost him completely. “Severus,” he whispered, “Dumbledore says this is just the beginning of everything for us. We’re free.”

 

Severus managed to nod slightly. “I know,” he said. “I’m free to love you. Free not to be a grouchy git anymore. It feels… strange.”

 

“Severus?” Harry’s voice was hesitant.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are… are we still getting married?” Harry asked, feeling very young.

 

Severus glared at him. “Don’t you want to?”

 

“Yes! More than anything!” Harry exclaimed. “I just thought… maybe you wouldn’t want to. If it’s too strange, or… I don’t know.”

 

Severus struggled to push himself up, ignoring Harry’s protests. He took Harry’s chin in his one free hand and held it firmly. “Listen, you,” he said, and his voice was stronger, “I love you more than anything, more than life itself. I think I just proved that I would die for you. I did die for you. And your love was the only thing that could bring me back. I know; I invented the spell, whatever Dumbledore may have told you. He simply helped me to refine it. I don’t think there can be any question about our love.”

 

“Oh, Severus!” Harry felt himself go limp from the relief, and, forgetting Severus’ condition entirely, flung his arms around his lover, who fell back, with Harry in his arms. They rocked each other back and forth, laughing and crying – well, at least Harry was, though there was also a suspicious moisture on Severus’ cheeks – and finally, kissing. When this spent itself, Severus let out a small groan of pain. Harry instantly loosened his grip in remorse. “I’m sorry!” he said.

 

“It’s alright. I’m okay. Well, I will be okay. Just let me sleep now, okay? Don’t go anywhere. Stay with me.” Severus’ eyelids fluttered closed again.

 

Harry settled himself into his usual position against Severus’ side and lightly slid his arm across the other’s torso. “I’ll never leave you,” he promised.

 

“You’d better not,” Severus said, his breathing growing slower as sleep took him.

 

“Severus? My scar is gone,” Harry said, his mouth moving against the fabric of Severus’ hospital gown, just over his sternum.

 

“That means it’s all over,” Severus said, his voice growing hazy.

 

“No. It means it’s all just beginning,” Harry corrected, closing his eyes and gently settling himself more comfortably.

 

“Yes…” Severus’ voice faded as he gave in to sleep.

 

* * *

 

They were woken in the late afternoon of the next day by Madam Pomfrey, who gave them both more potions, which Severus claimed to have made. If his grouchiness was anything to go by, he was definitely feeling better. Pomfrey told Harry in conspiratorial tones, that Severus had always been a bad patient.

 

“I heard that,” Severus grumbled. Harry giggled, exchanging a knowing look with the matron.

 

Harry waited until she was gone. “Severus, how do you feel, really?”

 

“Better,” Severus said. “Though still not one hundred percent.” Harry took his wand from the night table and flicked several spells toward the curtains. “What are you doing?”

 

“This,” said Harry, sliding his hand under the blankets and then under the waistband of Severus’ boxers. His hand found Severus’ length and began to work it gently, coaxing it to life.

 

The other gasped slightly, and growled, “You little… oh, Merlin… we shouldn’t be doing this here, Harry, she’ll hear… oh, MOTHER!”

 

“Relax,” Harry purred, taking advantage of the fact that he was feeling entirely recovered and Severus wasn’t. “I just put about seven silencing and unperturbable charms on the curtains. And she obviously knows about us, anyway. She latched our beds together, you know.” Meanwhile, Harry kept up his ministrations on Severus’ now-hard cock, running his thumb over the sensitive head, feeling a drop of precome there.

 

“Did she now?” Severus rasped. “Harry, if you stop doing that…”

 

“What?” Harry asked mischievously.

 

“I will have to punish you, later on.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Harry said wickedly, “but I wasn’t planning on stopping.”

 

“Oh, please… ahhhh…” Severus’ ability to form sentences or even words departed, leaving him simply moaning his pleasure, pushing himself into Harry’s hand, hips lifting from the hospital bed. “Ohhh… yes, yes, oh HARRY!” He went over the edge, come spraying into Harry’s hand and against the blankets above it. Harry leaned over and pressed a kiss to Severus’ cheek.

 

“For you, love,” he said. “Think of it as the beginning of my thank you.”

 

Severus gave him the sweet smile of afterglow that he generally wore after a particularly good orgasm. “Are you forgetting that you saved my life, as well?” he asked. “I think I can manage at least that!”

 

Harry was quite pleased to hear this, as his own erection was straining against the blankets. Severus turned on his side, with notably more ease than the he had during the night, and slipped his long-fingered hand straight into Harry’s boxers. He worked Harry hard and fast, which was good, since he was already so close. When he was just about there, Severus leaned over him and kissed him deeply, hard, tongues tangling, Harry’s hands coming up to tangle in Severus’ long hair. Harry came hard, but it wasn’t enough that it was Severus’ hand; he pushed closer, Severus’ fist still wrapped around him, rubbing himself against Severus’ thigh, too, needing to feel the closeness and intimacy they were accustomed to.

 

They were both spent. Harry kissed Severus for a long moment. “I love you,” he said, smiling dreamily.

 

“As I love you,” Severus replied. Then, “I can’t wait until I’m fully recovered.”

 

“Me, neither,” said Harry, grinning. “Hey. When are we getting married?”

 

“When do you graduate?”

 

“June thirtieth.”

 

“How about July first?”

 

Harry laughed. “Sounds good.”

 

“Is that soon enough?”

 

“It’ll have to do,” Harry said. “Professor.”

 

“Okay, that does it. You’re being punished later on.”

 

“I’ll make a mental note of it.”

 

There was a knocking sound, clearly conjured out of the air, as one could not knock on curtains. They glanced at one another and pulled away, trying to look nonchalant.

 

“Come in,” Harry said, taking off the spells. The curtains parted, and Dumbledore ushered Ron, Hermione, Draco and Ginny through – the latter two holding hands, as Harry noticed instantly. “Hi!” His face lit up.

 

They all started talking at once, Hermione rushing at him and flinging her arms around him, Ron hugging him fiercely, Ginny hugging him. Draco waited until the rest had had their say, then, as Hermione and Severus began talking about the other duels, Draco sat down on the edge of the bed beside Harry. They looked into one another’s eyes for a long moment.

 

“Thank you,” Draco said quietly.

 

Harry nodded. There was nothing else to say. “You’re free,” was what he did say.

 

Draco nodded, too. “You too,” he said.

 

“Yes. We’re all free,” Harry said, still marvelling at the fact.

 

“But I meant thank you for more than that,” Draco said, very seriously. “You saved me in so many ways. If it hadn’t been for you, I hate to think what my life could have become.”

 

Harry shook his head. “No,” he said. “Well, maybe, but I had no choice about it myself.”

 

“You had a choice about allowing me to be your friend,” Draco said stubbornly. “I brushed you off so many times, and you persisted. You let me into your friendships, your groups, your House, and even your war. There just aren’t words for me to thank you enough for that.”

 

“Then consider them all said,” Harry said. “Thank you, in turn, for being such a good friend. And for disarming Voldemort. That helped!”

 

Draco grinned. “Right,” he said. “Forgot about that.”

 

Harry paused, then held out his arms. Draco paused, too, then moved into the hug, holding Harry very tightly.

 

“So,” said Harry, releasing him. “I notice you and Ginny…” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows and grinning.

 

Draco actually blushed. “Yeah,” he said. “After we all got back here, and Dumbledore told us that you and Severus would be alright, it was pretty much immediate. I was going to say something, but it just happened at the same time.”

 

“You’re in love with her?”

 

“Yeah,” Draco said, smiling. “And she is, too, with me. I guess I really have been since you and I last talked about it, over Christmas. Apparently she was, too, though I didn’t think so. She apparently worked everything out with Neville, before the battle.”

 

“Ah,” said Harry. “Well, I’m really glad for you guys!”

 

“Not as happy as we are for ourselves, I promise you that,” Draco said, grinning. He looked at Harry. “I’m guessing you were pretty happy when you found out he wasn’t dead?”

 

“You have no idea,” Harry said dryly. “I wanted to die before that.”

 

“Yeah, figured as much,” Draco said casually. “Good thing you loved him enough to reverse it, then, eh?”

 

Harry smiled. “Yes, it’s a good thing,” he said, letting his gaze drift back to Severus, who was still talking animatedly with Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

 

“So, when’s the wedding?”

 

“Day after graduation.”

 

Draco laughed. “I guess it won’t be a secret that it started during school, then,” he said.

 

“I couldn’t care less,” Harry said.

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Besides, it started in the holidays, anyway.”

 

“And continued during school.”

 

“Well, yes.”

 

At that point, Severus said, “I have a small announcement.” Everyone looked at him, so he continued. “I am not going to be teaching Potions for the remainder of this year.”

 

Hermione looked very surprised. “Then who is?” she asked.

 

“Madam Pomfrey,” Severus said. “I don’t want to right now. I’ve never before taken a holiday, and Merlin and Dumbledore know I need one!”

 

“What about next year?” asked Ron.

 

Severus looked at Harry, and interlaced their fingers. “We’ll have to see,” he said evasively. “It all depends.”

 

“On what?” asked Draco.

 

“Well, on what Harry wants to do now, where we’re going to live after the wedding, and so forth.”

 

Ron looked at Harry. “Well, I’m impressed,” he said. “If the whole dying-for-you stunt wasn’t enough to secure your everlasting devotion, I’m guessing the voluntarily leaving-Hogwarts thing will be!”

 

Harry smiled at them all, and then at Severus, and said nothing.

 

“Harry?” asked Ginny. “What are you planning to do after this? Do you know?’

 

“Well, get married,” Harry told her, still smiling. “And after that, we’ll see. We haven’t talked about it much yet, seeing as we’ve only been conscious for, oh, about an hour.”

 

“And I’m sure most of THAT wasn’t spent in conversation,” Draco snorted.

 

“Insolent brat,” Severus said. “No respect for your elders.”

 

“If you’re my elder, you’re Harry’s elder, too, don’t forget,” Draco grinned.

 

Severus rolled his eyes and managed a feeble glare. “You’re lucky I’m still rather weak,” he said.

 

“Yeah, no doubt. Well, if you’ll excuse us,” Draco said, “Molly and Arthur are here, along with the rest of the Weasleys – well, not Percy – but Gin and I’ve got to go down for dinner with them.”

 

“Meeting the parents already?” Severus asked, raising his eyebrows.

 

“I’ve already met them, Severus,” Draco informed him. “Christmas, remember? But yeah, this is the first official ‘hello, and why yes, I AM dating your daughter’ meeting.”

 

They all laughed. Draco added, “And now that I have, officially, no parents, there aren’t any awkward meetings to be held with my side of the family, either.”

 

No one else looked surprised by this, but Harry was confused. “What about your mother?” he asked awkwardly.

 

“Turns out she was a Death Eater, too,” Draco said, seeming unbothered. “She did more spy stuff, so she wasn’t required at the regular events.”

 

“So – when Voldemort – she died, too?”

 

“Pretty much, yeah. Needless to say, if Ginny and I ever get married ourselves, we’ll be taking her name.” Ginny beamed at Draco, and he reached for her hand. “Come on, we should go,” he said, and waving their goodbyes, they left.

 

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry and Severus. “Well,” said Hermione, “we should actually go and eat dinner, too. Dumbledore’s going to tell everyone what happened as soon as you’re both able to attend a meal again. He was thinking of supper tomorrow.”

 

“Alright,” said Severus. “Provided that he announce our engagement, as well.”

 

Hermione looked surprised. “Okay,” she said, but didn’t question it. “I’ll tell him.”

 

Ron looked as though this made sense, too. “Well, I guess it should be alright, shouldn’t it? I mean, you’re not teaching any more, at least as long as Harry’s still a student, so there shouldn’t really be any conflict of interest, or anything.”

 

Severus raised his eyebrows. “I think, given that Harry just saved the entire world from the most evil wizard there has ever been, that he can probably bend a few rules if he wants.”

 

“And I definitely want,” Harry said. Then he added, “Though I still have to do my NEWT’s, I suppose. You have to help me study for Potions.”

 

Severus waved this off. “Get Draco to help you. I’m on holidays, and you’re here to entertain me.”

 

Harry laughed. “I have to pass, though. And then we’ll get married and go on a nice, real vacation, somewhere far away and warm, and then I’ll REALLY entertain you.”

 

Ron moaned. “Not this again!” he said, pretending to put his face in his hands.

 

“Get used to it,” Harry said airily. “If you think we’re bad now, just wait until we’re officially newlyweds!”

 

Ron groaned, muttering something about thinking they had already entered that phase. The late-afternoon sun filtered in through the windows as Hermione pulled Ron up and led him away.

 

Severus turned immediately back to Harry. “This is really quite perfect,” he remarked. “You, me, everyone else at dinner.”

 

“You’re not hungry, are you?”

 

“No. Just for you. Just let me be with you, feel you with me, beside me.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Harry said, smiling tenderly. He snuggled – there was really no other word for it – against Severus’ side and wrapped his arms and legs around him. There was a bit of a tussle as Severus’ arms and legs struggled to gain some purchase on Harry as well.

 

“Love you.”

 

“Love you too.”

They stayed that way for a long time, eventually falling asleep. It was thus that Dumbledore and Poppy Pomfrey found them much later, when they returned to re-administer their potions.

 

“You look like a proud father, Headmaster,” the matron said, clucking her tongue at the sight of the pair with affection.

 

“You know, Poppy, I feel rather like one,” Dumbledore said, smiling.


	25. Epilogue

  
Author's notes: more of the same  


* * *

Chapter 25: Epilogue

 

“So, what do you think?” Harry turned slightly in front of the mirror, catching Severus’ eye through the mirror, where his fiancé stood behind him.

 

“Very nice, indeed,” Severus said, obviously impressed.

 

Harry rather thought he was right. The ceremonial dress robes were dark green with black and silver – very Slytherin, he thought, which seemed odd, for wedding robes – were Slytherins the founders of the wedding rituals, or something? He turned around to speak to Severus face to face. “You’re looking rather nice, too,” Harry said, giving the older man a full, head-to-toe inspection. And indeed, he did.

 

Severus smiled and ducked his head. He had gotten used to the idea that Harry found him attractive, but would probably never believe that he really was handsome when he wasn’t scowling all the time. The identical robes brought out the dark of his eyes, the silvery sheen on his shining, dark hair, and the pale hues of his delicate skin, the hollows of his cheeks, the indentation of his lips. Harry thought he had never been more beautiful. He crossed the parlour, where they had both lived continuously since the battle. (There was no more pretence of Harry living in Gryffindor Tower, especially since Dumbledore had, honouring their request, announced their engagement after the war/Voldemort announcements.) Without saying a word, Harry picked up one of Severus’ cool hands and laid it against his cheek, closing his eyes.

 

Severus took Harry’s rather warmer hand and did the same in reverse. “You’re sure,” was all he said, his voice only slightly doubtful. He was quite obviously very sure that Harry was sure. “This is your last chance to back out.”

 

Harry closed the last few inches separating them and looked into Severus’ eyes, opening his mind fully to his lover. “You know that I am,” was all he said.

 

Severus probed his eyes hungrily. “Yes, you are,” he said. “Then, my love, my soon-to-be husband, let us go.” He held out his hand, which Harry took, and led the way to the Great Hall.

 

As they entered, a great cheer went up. Harry had thought, over the past few months, that the news of their engagement had gone over remarkably well. If there were any slurs against the former Potions Master’s homosexuality, or his relationship with the so-called Boy Who Lived, none came to Harry’s attentive ears. Of course, there were the Slytherins… but they had all been strangely – or perhaps not-so-strangely – subdued since Voldemort’s defeat. Added to which, Harry, Severus, Draco, Lupin, Moody and Neville had all been awarded Order of Merlin, first class, medals, while all the other students and Order members present had been awarded Order of Merlin, second class medals as well. That had to earn one some respect, Harry thought. Besides, most of the other students seemed in awe of him.

 

The Hall had been cleared of the desks which had filled it for the final exams, OWL’s and NEWT’s that had ended just a few days before, and it was filled with flowers and people. All the students, plus all of the couple’s guests had been invited to stay a day later than the ending of the term for the wedding.

 

The music began. Severus turned to Harry and gave him a small smile, as they proceeded, hand-in-hand, down the central aisle. Dumbledore was waiting. Ron, Hermione, Draco and Lupin were the witnesses for both Harry and Severus jointly (they had insisted it be this way, that their witnesses be listed under both their names), and waited at the front. Hermione was holding flowers. The ceremony began with all the standard rituals. The wizarding community’s wedding rituals varied only slightly from the muggle version; the only real difference being the officialization of the marriage bond between the two partners. They had written their own vows, and although they had read them to each other beforehand, each thought that no words had ever sounded more original or beautiful.

 

“Harry,” Severus said, facing him and holding his hand, “Through the years, we have not always gotten along. I was a lost, dark, and lonely person. But when we met, I unwittingly became your protector. And when you saved me from myself nearly one year ago, and showed me how to love, I took that responsibility on willingly. I have died for you before, and I would do it again if I needed to. I vow to you today, before this audience and these witnesses, to love you, protect you, and to be with you forever, as long as we both shall live. I will never leave you. I love you now and I will forever. This is my vow to you, my love.”

 

Harry felt a great lump in his throat, but caught a glimpse of Draco attempting not to snicker. The Slytherin had bets going with Dean and Seamus that Harry would cry during the ceremony. He looked back at Severus and forgot them, forgot these trivial, silly matters. He had a vow to speak.

 

“Severus,” he said, only slightly tremulously, “I love you. I have loved you since last summer, when I was finally able to see the beautiful person that you are. I have never been happier since we resolved our differences and found true love in each other. I trust in you alone to protect me, and it is my intention to protect you wherever you go. I would die for you, too, if I ever had to. I vow to you today, before this audience and these witnesses, to love you, protect you, and to be with you forever, as long as we both shall live. I will never leave you. I love you now and I will forever. This is my vow to you, who have always been my only love.”

 

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, his soft tone carrying to every corner of the Hall, “do you take this man, Harry James Potter, to be your husband?”

 

Severus looked at Harry, his obsidian gaze burning steadily. “I do,” he said resolutely.

 

Dumbledore turned to Harry. “Harry,” he said, “do you take this man, Severus Silenius Snape, to be your husband?”

 

Harry looked back at Severus and felt that his heart would burst with joy. “I do!” he said.

 

Dumbledore smiled. “Then do as I say: raise your left, or ring hands and let the bands touch one another.” They did this, Harry shivering from the solemnity – and the feeling of power shuddering between the two rings as they touched. “Keep your eyes open and fixed on each other’s,” Dumbledore directed. Harry looked deeply into Severus’ eyes. He felt like laughing, yet it was far too serious for laughter.

 

Dumbledore raised his wand over the rings and began to murmur the unmistakable sounds of a binding spell. This lasted for several minutes. When the soft words finally stopped, Dumbledore gave his wand a tricky sort of wave. With a sensation like a light turning on, Harry suddenly felt himself more aware of Severus’ thoughts and emotions than he had ever been before. The bond. It had worked. It was complete.

 

“I pronounce you married,” Dumbledore announced. The creases around his light-blue eyes deepened as he smiled broadly. “Husbands, you may kiss one another.”

 

Severus took Harry’s hands in his and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. No tongue. They had agreed. Besides, Ron had threatened to vomit. But that could not stop Harry’s hands from coming up and cupping Severus’ face, even as Severus’ hands were holding his face as though it were dearer, more precious, than all the money in the world. “I love you,” Severus whispered after, though it was nearly drowned out by the deafening applause and whistling that went up from the crowd.

 

“I love you, too,” Harry said back, over the noise. The music began again, and he was dimly aware of Hermione beaming at him, Ron red in the face (with happiness?), Draco’s resigned smile, Ginny’s grin, Lupin’s hearty pat on the shoulder as they passed him, all of it was a blur as they recessed down the makeshift aisle.

 

When they had exited the Hall, Harry turned to Severus. “I can’t believe it’s over already!”

 

“It’s not over yet,” Severus told him, smiling. “There’s still the whole reception. That, as I have heard, is the less-pleasant part.”

 

Harry cuffed him lightly. “Come on, now, it will be nice. We planned it ourselves, remember?”

 

“I highly doubt,” Severus said emphatically, “that you will be unable to prevent Ron and Draco from doing something that embarrass me, at least, greatly.”

 

“Well, I’ll make it up to you,” Harry promised, grinning and conceding the point.

 

Severus raised his eyebrows. “And how will you being doing that?” he asked, his voice going seductive.

 

“Don’t even start that now,” Harry said, laughing. “They’re all about to come rushing out of there. Come on, let’s get to the ballroom before them. We have to do the whole receiving line, remember?”

 

Severus groaned, but allowed Harry to drag him off. “So, tell me again about Malta,” he said, as they walked, arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

 

“It’s supposed to be very warm and beautiful,” Harry told him again, smiling. Severus never seemed to tire of hearing about it. “Lots of beaches, with, at least in the pictures, lots of smooth, golden sand, gentle waves, clear water, a light breeze so it doesn’t get too hot. Servants to bring us drinks, food, whatever libation we require. And at night, Severus, at night, there’s just us, and a whole month of nothing to do but be together.”

 

“I can think of a few things to do,” Severus said. They had reached the ballroom. Stopping just outside the doors, Severus turned to his new husband and pushed him gently up against a stone wall, his hands against Harry’s shoulders, trapping him. He lowered his mouth to Harry’s and kissed him deeply, as though drinking him in. Harry felt his knees go weak from the added intimacy of feeling Severus’ thoughts, emotions, and desires through their new bond, and held his husband close, revelling in the kiss, as they plundered each other’s mouths once again.

 

“So,” Severus said, “according to this silly ‘reception’ custom, I suppose it is not acceptable to merely take one’s new husband and disappear into the beckoning sunset while all the guests are still present?”

 

“That’s right,” Harry said sternly. “No sneaking away from one’s own wedding. Merlin, I thought I’d married an intelligent man! The things I have to tell you!”

 

Severus growled at him, though smilingly. “Potter,” he began, but Harry interrupted.

 

“Excuse me?” he said innocently. “I believe that would be Potter-Snape, if it’s all the same to you.”

 

Severus shrugged conceding. “Nevertheless,” he said, “I am thoroughly looking forward to punishing you for that comment on our honeymoon.”

 

“As am I,” Harry reassured him, biting his lip enticingly. “But, first thing’s first. Admit it, you’re longing to be congratulated and fawned over by all those people!”

 

“Oh, you are ASKING for it,” Severus growled, but he made no protest as Harry interlaced his fingers with his own, waving at the first guests to make their way upstairs.

 

And as the last few guests filed by (Ron had made Hermione wait until the end, which had been a good thing, as she had had to be forcibly pried off Harry’s neck and certainly would have held up the line), Harry turned to Severus and, just for a moment, before going in, buried his face against Severus’ neck and thought again about how he could do this for the rest of his natural life, and how he must be the luckiest guy in the world.

 

“You aren’t, you know,” Severus said, reminding Harry that he could hear his thoughts, “I am.”

 

“No, you’re not. I am.” Harry raised his face and kissed his husband tenderly.

 

“No, I am, you insolent prat.”

 

“No, I am, you grumpy git.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“Whips, Harry, do I have to say anything more?”

 

“Later on, yes, I’d love to hear more about that! In the mean time, though, I’d settle for a good fucking, right here.”

 

“We should go in.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“Yes, I believe I knew that already,” Severus said.

 

“Come on, they’re all waiting for us.” Harry kissed him quickly and took his hand, still suffused with gratitude toward the entire universe for letting this day come to them at last, despite everything. “Let’s go inside.”

 

THE END

 

Review, please! I will love you forever if you do! And come and find my other story (soon to be stories!) on here! I can also be found at thesilversnitch.com, skyehawke.com, and the glassesreflect.net mailing list (see Potter Slash Archive).


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